The Fire Sermon Quotes

“I’m not sure that secret goat-farming is the most effective show of defiance.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“A history written in ashes, in bones. Before the blast, they say there'd been sermons about fire, about the end of the world. The fire itself gave the last sermon; after that there were no more.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“When did we become grateful for such small mercies?”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I closed my eyes. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to be some kind of secret weapon.” “I know that,” said Zoe. “But maybe you should.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The next morning, as usual, I woke from dreams of fire.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The Confessor laughed gently. “How very sweet. But you’re not quite one of them, are you, Cass? You’re worth more than any of them. This Piper, at least, must have realized what you could be worth to them, or he’d have killed you as soon as he got hold of you, to be rid of Zach.” She cocked her head slightly as she stared at me. “Though I’m beginning to wonder whether I didn’t overestimate you. Whether we all didn’t. I’m sure you have your moments. I’m guessing we have you to thank for the evacuation of most of the islanders; probably the fire at New Hobart, too. But I’m surprised at your blind spots. You still haven’t harnessed what you’re capable of, it seems.” She’d drawn even closer to us, but as always it was her mental presence that was most confronting. The calculation behind her still eyes; the probing that made me want to wince. “You’re disappointing, Cass. Like these machines. It turns out they’re not everything we might have hoped. Oh, they’re great for storing the information. It’s all in there.” She waved vaguely at the stacks of machines below. “You should have seen the record chambers at Wyndham, before Zach and I had it moved into the computers here. They had the information, but it was so unwieldy. Now, if I need to find something straightforward, it’s phenomenally good. Think of the thousands of clerks we’d need, all scuttling about with millions of files, just to keep track of the basic details. With the computer, it’s all synthesized, in one system. Like a live thing. So I can tap into it, interact with it, use the information as fluently as thinking. If we’d stayed with paper records, we’d never have been able to do what we’ve done.” “And what a tragic loss that would be.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Set against the wall, next to a closed steel door, was a huge control panel at which the Confessor sat in a wheeled chair. Her eyes were closed, but I could see them moving busily beneath the twitching lids as her hands roamed the console, pressing buttons, caressing dials. Around her forehead sat a metal band, a steel halo, from which a single wire draped to meet the central console. “It’s her?” Kip whispered at my side. I nodded. Unhurried, the Confessor spun in her chair to face us. “I wondered when I’d be seeing you again.” I opened my mouth to answer but saw that the Confessor hadn’t even glanced at me. Still staring at Kip, she stood, lifted off the metal band, narrowed her eyes, then smiled slowly. “We’d guessed there’d be damage, but it’s strange to see in person. And it’s worse than I’d realized. You really are a blank slate, aren’t you? Remarkable.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I don’t think we can finish this without going up and facing her.” “I never thought I’d long for Piper and Zoe, but shouldn’t we come back with them?” I shook my head. “Cass, I’m sure you’re a hellcat in a fight, but when you say ‘finish this,’ don’t you think it would be better if there were more, you know, deadly, knife-throwing rebels involved?” “No. We’ve brought enough on them—we can’t put them at risk like that. Too much of the resistance depends on them. Anyway, with the Confessor, it’s a mind game; I don’t think she could fight any more than the two of us. When I said ‘finish this,’ I didn’t mean it had to come to blood. I just meant”—I paused, struggling to explain it to him—“I meant that this started with us. And the whole time, it’s been her I’ve felt, tracking me. More even than Zach. We can’t keep running away from her. All of this”—I gestured at the machine-encased chamber below us—“she’s the core of it. We can’t finish it without facing her.” I slipped my knife back into its sheath at my belt.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Beneath its base, all the room’s cables culminated.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“For most of the day we rested, under cover of a scrubby copse, and when we set off in the afternoon we avoided the roads. By the time darkness was sloping into the valley, we’d skirted north of the city to join the river, me leading the way.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“As the dry plains receded and the network of rivers began to spread its grasp, there were more signs of habitation. At first, just a few settlements in the dry but still arable land.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“That’s not your plan?” Piper and Zoe looked as nonplussed as Kip.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“But I was still watching Kip. I saw how he had frozen. How his hand, powder-dusted and taut, still gripped the door. When I reached him he still hadn’t moved. It took me a while to make out what he was staring at, particularly as Zoe, joining us, blocked out the last of the light from the doorway. When I did see what was inside, for a moment I didn’t understand why Kip had reacted like that. It looked innocuous at first: a cabinet mounted on the wall, its cover blasted or fallen off. From inside it, snaking out into the darkened room, was a mass of wires, their colors faded but still distinct: red, blue, yellow. Some were bundled together, others hung loose. It wasn’t a dramatic sight: just another piece of detritus from the unfamiliar world of the Before. That’s when I realized it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. I remembered the wires snaking along the wall above the tanks. Bundled together in places, elsewhere branching out like ungainly ivy. The wires, the cords, the tubes. And the scar in Kip’s wrist, perfectly round and still visible, where one of the tubes had entered his body.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Nothing in this mountain town looked as well preserved as that box had been. The strangest thing about the place was the disjunction between the town itself—the desolate, vacant space—and the crowd of impressions that surrounded it. To me, it was almost a roar, the sheer volume of lives that had shared this space. Their absence was as vivid as their presence. It didn’t feel like my visions—not even my visions of the blast. It was more like a residue. It was the resonance of a bell, echoing long after the bell itself has stopped. I was surprised to look up and see Zoe and Kip unaffected. Both were moving warily among the rubble, and Kip kept looking over his shoulder, but it was evident that neither of them felt the same silent cacophony that was besieging me. Kip noticed me, though, and the way my hands had moved, instinctively and uselessly, to cover my ears. He moved to my side, stepping over a twisted metal beam.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Nothing in this mountain town looked as well preserved as that box had been. The strangest thing about the place was the disjunction between the town itself—the desolate, vacant space—and the crowd of impressions that surrounded it. To me, it was almost a roar, the sheer volume of lives that had shared this space. Their absence was as vivid as their presence. It didn’t feel like my visions—not even my visions of the blast. It was more like a residue. It was the resonance of a bell, echoing long after the bell itself has stopped.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I looked around, staring up above the trees. Behind us the valley widened as the river traced its way toward the sea. Ahead, the valley carved an ever-narrowing path between the mountains. On either side, those mountains imposed themselves on the sky. The trees faded out less than halfway up, exposing cliff faces and collapsed sections of scree.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“And if you just keep running, what’s the point then? He let you leave because he thought you’d be valuable—thought you could help us.” My voice was unsteady. “I tried to help, and all I did was get locked up by the Assembly, and draw the Confessor to the island. I don’t know what everyone thinks I’m supposed to be able to do now.” “Nor do I. So far, to be honest, I’m not seeing what all the fuss is about. But Piper saw something in you. And the Alphas sure as hell found a use for their seer. So it seems to me that running away is just throwing away the sacrifice that he made. That all those people on the island made.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“You think you’re being self-effacing, or modest, but you’re not. You’re protecting him.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“There were several paths that zigzagged their way down to the coast, but the islanders relied on the tunnels rather than those narrow, circuitous trails, deliberately kept small so they couldn’t be seen from the water. We avoided them, too, for fear of encountering soldiers from either side, and instead took our chances on the steep, jagged rock. In places it was so sharp that to grab at it for balance was like grasping at blades; at others it was so thickly coated with bird droppings that any purchase was impossible.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“You can feel it?” I nodded. Even here, standing beside him in the island’s clear light, I could feel her hunting. The scrutiny of her mind, insidious as unwanted hands on flesh. “All the time. It’s worse even than when she used to interrogate me.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I leaned in to examine the sketches next to each name. The Ringmaster’s face looked incongruously warm. Beneath his mass of curly, dark hair his eyes were welcoming, his lips carving a smile. In the sketch to the right, the General’s long pale hair was pulled back from her slim face. Her features looked exaggerated: brows arched, cheekbones sharp. Her eyes lacked the animation of the Ringmaster’s. Instead, her expression was appraising, controlled.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“He turned to me. “And you—being a seer. Is there a place outside of it, where the visions end and you begin?” “It’s not a job, or a choice. Being a seer isn’t something you do. It’s who I am.” “Maybe it’s the same for me, now. Taking care of the island.” “And if it were a choice—would you choose it again?” “Would you choose to be a seer?” I didn’t have an answer to give him.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The Council’s expanding the refuges, at least, but it’s still nonsensical.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“He had shrugged off the furtiveness, and the tentativeness, of our months on the run.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Since the Keeping Rooms, the sun and the open sky retained their novelty—even the hellish boat journey hadn’t destroyed the pleasure of sun on my skin. It was a pleasure, too, just to concentrate on simple bodily sensations. To step back from all the machinations and complications and to focus instead on sun on skin, skin on stone. In the Keeping Rooms, I’d had to resort to pain to keep my mind from the nightscape of my visions and fears. Now, pleasure did the same thing.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Now, in the early evening, the darkening sky was warmed by the lambent glow of the torches in brackets, and candles in windows. A goat was tethered in a tiny patch of grass between two houses, chewing mournfully.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“So while I was cloistered with Piper and the other Assembly members, Kip spent the afternoons exploring the island.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The tall man had introduced himself: Owen. His earlier terseness was still present but was outweighed by curiosity.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Outside, in the harbor, the boats held their evening conversation: the creaking of bows, the straining at buoys.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“We kept our distance, slinking past in the cover of the long reeds, but even from there we could see the gibbet. It looked new. The wood was freshly hewn, and it was the only vertical thing in the settlement, not yet having succumbed to the swampy, shifting land that had settled the older structures into lurching angles.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon