I am the Circle and the Circle is me, I think, closing my eyes-

"Open them, Todd," the Mayor says--

I do-

And still Mr. Hammar holds her there-The thrashing gets worse-- So hard the binds on her wrists start to bleed-- "Jesus," Davy says, under his breath-- "He's gonna kill her," I say, voice still low-It's only a vid-It's only a vid-- (except it ain't-) (feeling nothing--) (cuz I'm dead--) (I'm dead--)

The Mayor leans past me and presses a button on the wall. "I should think that's enough, Captain," he says, his voice carrying into the Arena of the Ask. Mr. Hammar raises the frame outta the water. But he does it slowly.

The woman hangs from it, chin down on her chest, water pouring from her mouth and nose. "He killed her," Davy says. "No," says the Mayor.

"Tell me," Mr. Hammar says to the woman, "and this will all stop."

There's a long silence, longer still.

And then a croaking sound from the woman.

"What was that?" Mr. Hammar says.

"I did it," croaks the woman.

" No way!" says Davy.

"What did you do?" Mr. Hammar asks.

"I set the bomb," the woman says, her head still down.

"And you tried to get yer worksisters to join you in a terrorist organizayshun."

"Yes," the woman whispers. "Anything."

"Ha!" Davy says, and again there's relief, relief that he tries to cover. "She confessed! She did it!"

"No, she didn't," I say, still looking at her, still not moving on the bench.

"What?" Davy says to me.

"She's making it up," I say, still looking thru the mirror. "So he'll stop drowning her." I move my head just slightly to show I'm talking to the Mayor. "Ain't she?"

The Mayor waits before answering. Even without Noise, I can tell he's impressed. Ever since I started with the Circle, things have taken on the worst kinda clarity.

Maybe that's the point.

"Almost certainly she's making it up," he finally says. "But now we've got her confession, we can use it against her."

Davy's eyes are still rocketing back and forth twixt me and his pa. "You mean, yer gonna ... Ask her some more?"

"All women are part of the Answer," the Mayor says, "if only in sympathy. We need to know what she thinks. We need to know what she knows."

Davy looks back at the woman, still panting against the frame.

"I don't get it," he says.

"When they send her back to prison," I say, "all the other women will know what happened to her."

"Quite," says the Mayor, putting a hand briefly on my shoulder. Almost like affecshun. When I don't move, he takes it away. "They'll know what's in store for them if they don't answer. And that way, we'll find out what we need to know from whoever knows it. The bomb last night was a resumption of aggression, the start of something larger. We need to know what their next move is going to be."

Davy's still looking at the woman. "What about her?"

"She'll be punished for the crime she confessed to, of course," the Mayor says, carrying on talking when Davy tries to interrupt with the obvious. "And who knows? Maybe she really does know something." He looks back up thru the mirror. "There's only one way to find out."

"I want to thank you for yer help today," Mr. Hammar says, putting his hand under the woman's chin to lift it. "You've been very brave and can be proud of the fight you put up." He smiles at her but she won't meet his eye. "You've shown more spirit than many a man I've seen under Asking." He steps away from her, going to a little side table and removing a cloth that's lying on top. Underneath are several shiny bits of metal. Mr. Hammar picks one up.

"And now for the second part of our interview," he says, approaching the woman.

Who starts to scream.

"That was," Davy says, pacing around as we wait outside but it's all he can get out. "That was." He turns to me. "Holy crap, Todd."

I don't say nothing, just take the apple I been saving outta my pocket. "Apple," I whisper to Angharrad, my head close to hers. Apple, she says back, clipping at it with her teeth, lips back. Todd , she says, munching it and then she makes an asking of it, Todd?

"Nothing to do with you, girl," I whisper, rubbing her nose.

We're down from the gate where Ivan's still guarding, still trying to catch my eye. I can hear him calling quietly to me in his Noise.

I still ignore him.

"That was effing intense," Davy says, trying to read my Noise, trying to see what I might think about it all, but I'm keeping it as flat as I can.

Feeling nothing.

Taking nothing in.

"Yer a cool customer these days," Davy says, voice scornful, ignoring Deadfall, who's wanting an apple, too. "You didn't even flinch when he-"

"Gentlemen," the Mayor says, coming outta the gate, a long, heavy sack in one hand.

Ivan stands up straight as a board, back at attenshun. "Pa," Davy says in greeting.

"Is she dead?" I say, looking into Angharrad's eyes. "She's no use to us dead, Todd," the Mayor says. "She sure looked dead," Davy says.

"Only when she lost consciousness," the Mayor says. "Now, I've got a new job for the two of you."

There's a beat as we take in the words, a new job.

I close my eyes. I am the Circle and the Circle is me.

"Would you quit effing saying that?" Davy shouts at me.

But we can all hear the horror in his own Noise, the anxiety that's rising, the fear of his pa, of the new job, fear he won't be able to-

"You won't be leading the Askings, if that's what you're afraid of," says the Mayor.

"I ain't afraid," Davy says, too loud. "Who's saying I'm afraid?"

The Mayor drops the bag at our feet. I reckernize its shape. Feeling nothing, taking nothing in. Davy's looking down at the bag, too. Even he's shocked. "Just the prisoners," says the Mayor. "So we can fight against enemy infiltration on the inside."

"You want us to--?" Davy looks up at his pa. "On people?"

"Not people," says the Mayor. "Enemies of the state." I'm still looking at the bag.

The bag that we all know carries a bolting tool and a supply of numbered bands.

30 THE BAND

***

(Viola)

I'VE JUST SET THE TIMER running and turned to Mistress Braithwaite to tell her we can leave when a woman comes tumbling out of the bushes behind us.

"Help me," she says, so gently it's almost as if she doesn't know we're there and is just asking the universe to help her somehow.

Then she collapses.

"What is this thing?" I say, taking another bandage from the too - small first aid kit we keep hidden in the cart, trying to tend her wound as we rock back and forth. There's a metal band encircling the middle of her forearm, so tight it seems like the skin around it is trying to grow into it. It's also so red with infection I can almost feel the heat coming off it.

"It's for branding livestock," Mistress Braithwaite says, angrily snapping the reins on the oxes, bumping us along paths that we aren't meant to take this fast. "That vicious bastard."

"Help me," the woman whispers.

"I'm helping you," I say. Her head is in my lap to cushion it from the bumps in the road. I wrap a bandage around the metal band but not before I see a number etched into the side.