“Valid as your concerns may be,” Councillor Emery said, “they can’t justify leaving our people defenseless. The ogres are not the only threat we’re facing.”
“Then why not focus our efforts on making it easier for people to flee?” Lady Cadence suggested. “I’ve long wondered why we don’t wear emergency rings—crystals we’d always have easily on hand that leap to the same designated safe house at an undisclosed location. I’m sure the dwarves could help you set something up in a matter of days.”
“That . . . is something we will take under consideration,” Councillor Emery said. “But we must also ensure that we do not become a people ruled by fear. Our authority is being threatened from both without and within—and it’s imperative that we prove our strength to everyone daring to challenge us. Spending a few years living with ogres doesn’t prepare you for the complexities of ruling this world.”
“No—but I know far more about our so-called enemies than you ever will,” Lady Cadence argued. “Either you ignored the reports I sent, or that traitor you trusted made sure they never saw the light of day.”
Fitz and Biana slouched as grumblings about their brother washed through the crowd.
“The insights I’ve gained could’ve prevented many of our current problems,” Lady Cadence added. “So you would be wise to heed my counsel now if you want any hope of a successful treaty negotiation.”
“Any information you see fit to provide we’d be happy to hear,” Councillor Emery told her. “But in a proper, scheduled meeting. And just to be clear”—he turned to the crowd—“nothing is going to halt our plans for this program of skill training. We do not bow to fear and speculation or flee to avoid confrontation.”
“We have in the past,” Lady Cadence reminded him. “Our Ancient Councillors opted to sink Atlantis in order to convince the humans that we had died—and turned our species into a bunch of silly myths and legends—because they knew that was the smarter alternative to involving ourselves in a war.”
“Those were different times,” Councillor Bronte told her. “We were a small, scattered race, still getting a handle on the different worlds we’d unwittingly become responsible for. I would know. I was there.” He tapped the points of his ears as proof of his Ancient standing. “We made the best decision we could—but it has also proven to be our most controversial. In fact, one of the ogres’ greatest grievances with us is that we’ve allowed humans to continue living in relative freedom—and I’ve heard some in this very audience make the same complaint. I’m not saying it was the wrong decision. But times have also changed, and now is the time for strength. And confidence. And providing a ready reminder of why we found ourselves in charge of this planet in the first place. We didn’t choose to rule the world. The world chose us, because our abilities and skills make us uniquely qualified—and yes, I am putting both on the same level. I don’t know how we, as a race, became so shortsighted about the value of our skills. I myself have even been guilty of such judgments. But it’s time we open our minds and start accepting their value.”
Lady Cadence stalked closer to argue, then stopped and dipped an especially stiff curtsy.
“Very well,” she said. “You’ve clearly made up your minds. I hope, for all of our sake, that these skills are as powerful as you say. We’ll need them when we’re dragged into war.”
TWENTY-ONE
DO YOU THINK she’s right?” Sophie asked Grady and Edaline after she’d caught them up on the afternoon’s drama. “Do you think the Council should’ve listened to Lady Cadence’s warning?”
“I think there are degrees of rightness,” Grady said, arranging a dozen empty silver buckets into a row. “Our days of easy answers are long past us.”
“Did those ever exist?” Edaline asked. “I remember my elvin history sessions teaching about quite a few averted catastrophes.”
“You may be right,” Grady said. “Though I don’t remember having to worry this much when I was a kid—or even when Jolie was Sophie’s age.”
They both fell silent, lost in their own memories as Edaline snapped her fingers and conjured up a waist-high pile of swizzlespice. It was feeding time in the Havenfield pastures, which could be quite an adventurous process. The animals that Grady and Edaline cared for were transitioning to a vegetarian diet.
Part of the elves’ conservation efforts included relocating any species that humans thought were “extinct” or “mythical” to their special animal preserve to ensure the creatures’ continued survival. But the process only made sense if there were no predators in the Sanctuary. So they’d developed methods to quell the animals’ hunting instincts and fed them a diet of gnomish produce, since the gnomes grew many things that tasted like meat.
“I will say,” Grady added, dropping handfuls of shriveled tubers into each of the buckets, “I’m sure Lady Cadence is right about the ogres keeping tabs on what we’re doing. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the training did add tension to the treaty negotiations. But I can’t imagine it’ll lead to a violent retaliation. The ogres have never attacked the elves directly.”
“What about the plague?” Sophie asked.
The ogres had tried to force the gnomes into servitude in Ravagog, knowing the Lost Cities would fall apart without them. The elves and gnomes had a uniquely symbiotic relationship, with each species relying heavily on the other. Gnomes were too defenseless to hold their own among the fiercer species that inhabited the planet. They also craved work and loved to garden, and were much more plantlike than animal, requiring very little food or sleep because they absorbed their energy from the sun. So in exchange for protection and shelter among the elves, the gnomes shared their excess produce and helped with any tasks that interested them. Sophie hadn’t realized just how vital the gnomes were until she’d seen the withering plants and overall disorganization in the Lost Cities when the gnomes were sick.
“That was definitely the boldest move the ogres have made,” Grady told her. “But I doubt they would’ve made it without the Neverseen’s urging. They sat on the plague for millennia, and only acted when Fintan suggested it. And let’s not forget that making that threat didn’t exactly work out well for them.”
“Thanks to you,” a female gnome with plaited hair and a dress woven from straw said to Sophie as she hauled over more empty buckets. The stack was twice as tall as her child-size body. “I wish I could’ve been there to see the flood that you and your friends caused. I hope it washed all the filth out of Serenvale.”
Most gnomes still referred to Ravagog by its original name, since it had been their homeland before the ogres ran them out, tore down all the trees, and contaminated the water and ground.
“Here are the cravettels,” another gnome said—a male this time, in a shirt sewn from leaves the same earthy tone as his skin. He dragged a huge bag of what looked like bright blue peanuts, flashing a green-toothed smile as he left it at Grady’s feet. “There’s plenty more where that came from if you need it—and I bet you will. I’ve never seen a T. rex who didn’t gobble these up by the ton.”
“Well, you’ve never met Verdi,” Grady said. “Her picky eating is a big part of why we call her our permanent resident. But I can’t wait to test them out.”
The gnome waved and trotted away, and Sophie realized she didn’t know his name. Just like she didn’t know the female gnome helping Edaline fill the buckets with swizzlespice.
It wasn’t totally her fault—they’d had dozens and dozens of gnomes move to Havenfield to be close to the Panakes tree. But ever since she’d lost Calla, Sophie found it too painful to get to know any of them. Staring into their huge gray eyes felt like opening a fresh wound.
“Personally, I’m proud of the Council for making this stand,” Edaline said. “It’s nice to see them focused on protecting everyone—especially the Talentless. And it’ll be interesting to see how powerful our skills can truly become when we train ourselves properly.”
“That might be a problem,” Cadoc said from
the shadows. “If either of you leave this house, Brielle and I will have to go with you, and everyone will know we’re your bodyguards.”
“But the Council said the training is mandatory,” Sophie reminded them. “So if they stay home, that could tip the Neverseen off too.”
“Easy solution,” Grady said. “You trust that we can take care of ourselves.”
“Imagine what you would say if your daughter tried that argument,” Brielle told him.
“Right, but she can’t do this.” Grady narrowed his eyes at Edaline, and her arms shot up on each side and started flailing about like an angry octopus.
“What have I told you about using your power on me?” Edaline snapped, smacking him with her thrashing appendages.
“I know—I’m sorry! I just figured you’d rather I proved the point with you instead of with Sophie.”
He calmed Edaline’s flailing and she snapped her fingers, conjuring a pile of dinosaur fluff above him and showering him in bright orange feathers. “Now we’re even.”
“I suppose we are,” he said. “And I’m glad you went with feathers and not manure.”
“Next time,” Edaline warned.
“See,” Grady told Sophie. “Strong abilities have consequences. Which reminds me—you and I still need to have that talk about your inflicting. So why don’t you come with me to test these cravettels on Verdi and we’ll chat as we work?”
“Verdi drool and a lecture?” Sophie whined. “Are you trying to punish me?”
“Far from it. I could really use your help. Maybe if you transmit to Verdi, you can convince her how much she’s going to like these new seeds.”
Easier said than done. The fluffy green T. rex took one whiff of the cravettels and made a gag-snort-snarl. Then she spun around and knocked her trough over with her tail.
“Aw, come on,” Grady said as he righted the silver basin and filled it with more of the seeds. “At least give them a try.”
I hear all the other T. rexes love them, Sophie transmitted, adding images of happy dinosaurs gobbling them up.
The snort that Verdi gave them practically dripped with disgust.
“You know how this works,” Grady warned. “If you won’t try it, I’m going to have to make you.”
Verdi threw back her enormous head and let out a defiant ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAR.
“All right then, you brought this on yourself.” Grady unhooked one of the silver lassoes strapped to his belt, whipping the shimmering rope in wide circles over his head before letting it fly in one swift motion.
ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!
“That’s not hurting her, right?” Sophie asked as Verdi tried to claw at the cord around her neck with her tiny T. rex arms.
“Her feathers are so thick I doubt she even feels it,” Grady promised, digging in his heels to keep his footing. “And don’t worry—animals always fight what’s good for them.”
He had a point. Sophie once helped her human mom give medicine to their cat, and the amount of yowling that followed made it sound like they were force-feeding him boiling poison.
Grady dragged Verdi toward her trough. “Okay, girl—time to try something new.”
ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!
He took advantage of Verdi’s open mouth and jerked the lasso hard, face-planting her into the seeds. Cravettels scattered everywhere—but some must’ve hit their mark because the next second Verdi was crunching.
“See?” Grady asked. “I hear they taste like pterodactyl.”
Verdi crunched some more.
And . . .
SPIT!
“Wonderful,” Grady said, shaking off the slimy blue bits he’d been sprayed with. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked Brielle as Verdi tried to drag him into her pasture.
Brielle grabbed him around his waist and together they pulled Verdi back to the trough.
ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!
Crunch.
SPIT!
And so the feeding went.
But somewhere around bite number ten—paired with a head full of Sophie’s calming transmissions—Verdi swallowed and . . .
. . . licked her chops.
“If you would’ve trusted me from the beginning, you wouldn’t have wasted half your dinner!” Grady grumbled as Verdi wolfed down the remaining blue seeds. “But let’s hope this means we’ve found something she loves—and that it quells her urge to hunt. A flock of seagulls flew a little too close to her enclosure last week and a couple of them became Verdi snacks.”
Sophie shuddered. “I bet you wish you could Mesmer her.”
“That would be nice—and what a perfect transition for our important conversation!”
“Ugh, I already know what you’re going to say.”
“And what’s that?” Grady asked, wrapping the lasso around his palm and elbow to coil it back up.
“You’re going to tell me that inflicting is a dark power and that I have to be careful about how much I use it because it’ll make people afraid of me, just like people were afraid of you after you manifested. And then I’ll assure you that I’m just trying to fix a few weak spots. Biana and I had a run-in with the Neverseen’s Psionipath a few months back, and my abilities wouldn’t work through his force field. He was right there in front of us—and there was nothing I could do. I can’t let that happen again. Fitz thinks our telepathy would’ve been strong enough if we’d worked together as Cognates. But inflicting comes down to me—and if I’d trained harder, I might’ve been able to stop Ruy from getting away. So see? As Alden would say: There’s no reason to worry.”
“Actually, that’s not what I was going to say—though I appreciate the Alden quote. And I get where you’re coming from. I remember testing my ability against a Psionipath once, and it was incredibly unsettling. But you have to understand that there’s a cost to training. I learned that the hard way—and almost let my power ruin me.”
“Ruin?” Now he had her attention.
“You’ve seen how Fintan was led astray by his craving for flame,” Grady said quietly. “I . . . let myself get just as out of control. I didn’t kill anyone—but I started using my ability for any passing whim. If someone was slowing me down when I was in a hurry? I’d motivate them to clear out of my way. Or if I needed something and didn’t have time to go get it? I’d motivate someone to bring it to me. The real low point was when the Council refused to grant my request to investigate an issue with the trolls. They didn’t think I had enough evidence to justify the drastic measures I was proposing, and I was positive I’d find more than enough if they’d allow me to conduct the search. So I mesmerized Bronte into signing the scroll.”
“Did he catch you?” Sophie asked.
“Of course. And if he’d wanted to, he could’ve had me exiled. At the very least, he could’ve hit me with the full force of his inflicting. Instead he sat me down and shared how he almost fell into the same trap with his ability. He told me that after years and years of training, he reached a point where the slightest aggravation or annoyance would flare his temper, and he’d unleash his rage. His low point was when he lashed out at his mother.”
“So . . . what are you saying?” she asked. “I can’t use my ability? Why would the Council order me to train in it, then?”
“Because the only thing worse than overusing an intense power is not learning how to control it. It comes down to moderation. Inflicting is an incredibly valuable ability—and I’m glad you have it. But don’t let it take over your life. Bronte said he built up so much anger and frustration that he has to keep it all tangled up in a knot deep inside of him—a constant pressure he fights every day to keep from unraveling. And he told me he’s had to teach you the same technique because of all the emotions you’re battling.”
“Aren’t I allowed to be angry about the things that have happened?”
“Of course. And I know you want to protect yourself and your friends. I also know that you feel a tremendous responsibility to
be the moonlark—whatever that even is. And those are much more noble reasons to push yourself than anything that motivated me. But that doesn’t mean the training isn’t eating away at you. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing there.”
He pointed to her hand, which was massaging the spot under her ribs.
“It’s not just a knot of emotions,” she told him. “It’s power I can draw on when I need it.”
Grady sighed and pulled her close. “I know. Just promise me you’ll try to let at least some of it go. If you hold on to everything, it’ll tear you apart.”
Sophie nodded, telling herself it wasn’t a lie.
She would try to let it go.
But not until she felt ready.
Right now, she had too many enemies—too many questions—too many worries.
Keefe gave her another huge one that night when she stretched out her consciousness for their nightly check-in.
FINALLY! his mind screamed. I was about an hour away from switching to my emergency plan.
Why? What’s happening?
I don’t fully know. Something huge is going down tomorrow. No one will tell me any specifics—but based on what I overheard, I’m pretty sure they’re going to Havenfield to snatch Grady and Edaline.
TWENTY-TWO
NO ONE SLEPT that night.
Havenfield was a blur of activity as the goblins and gnomes snuck around to prepare.
Everything needed to look normal, so that it wouldn’t give away that Keefe had leaked the warning. But they still found plenty of ways to increase their security.
Booby traps were set. The Black Swan sent dwarven reinforcements to hide deep underground, ready to pop out at the first sign of trouble. And Grady and Edaline were each given melders—elvin weapons that caused temporary paralysis—and were planning to station themselves outside in the pastures that housed the most dangerous animals.
Sandor had originally suggested they stay inside, but the last thing anyone wanted was to give Brant a chance to start another deadly house fire.