LIKE, Silveny decided.
I like him too—as a friend, she added quickly, in case Fitz was listening. But he and Granite were too involved in their deep discussion on Fitz’s progress.
“It’s only the first step,” Granite told them. “But it’s very encouraging. You two truly have the most unique connection I’ve encountered in all my years of telepathy.”
Sophie’s cheeks burned, and she was glad Fitz was too busy trying to transmit again. It took his mind two tries, but he managed another Hi!
FITZ! Silveny replied. SOPHIE! FITZ! FRIEND!
FRIEND! Fitz repeated, his voice louder. More confident.
They spent the rest of the day in a bizarre one-word-at-a-time conversation. Fitz couldn’t understand Silveny unless she spoke the Enlightened Language, and no matter how hard Silveny tried, he couldn’t pick up the emotions or images she sent. Still, Granite was very pleased with their progress.
“I have absolutely no doubt you two will be able to serve as Cognates,” he announced when the lesson finished.
Fitz beamed at that, and Sophie smiled too, until she remembered that meant they’d have to get to work on the sharing-all-their-secrets thing. . . .
She told herself she’d find a way to get used to it, and she put on a brave face through dinner. But her mind was swimming, swimming, swimming, thinking of all the things she couldn’t—shouldn’t—share.
She figured she was in for a long, restless night, but Calla’s reveriebells chased away her worries. She was dreaming of mallowmelt and custard bursts and cute boys flying on alicorns when a voice dragged her back to consciousness.
“Hey, Sophie—wake up. I think I found something.”
FOURTEEN
IT TOOK SOPHIE several seconds to realize Dex’s voice wasn’t part of a dream. A few more after that, she caught the silhouette of him sitting on the edge of her bed.
She gasped and pulled her covers around her neck, then remembered she was wearing her crazy pajamas. Dex looked just as furry, though his onesie was lime green.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, turning toward her wall of windows. A triangle of gray-orange light leaked in where the curtains parted slightly, so she assumed that meant it was dawn.
“I had to show you this.” Dex held up a gadget that looked like a gutted obscurer. The sphere had been sliced in half, and all kinds of springy coiled wires stuck out of the center. “I know it’s ugly, but now it’s a really powerful Evader. It let me break into the Council’s archives and find records on Exillium—and I know what you’re going to say,” he added quickly. “I know the Black Swan told us to drop it. But I think Exillium’s worth looking into. If we could find the Boy Who Disappeared, we might be able to find the Neverseen. Plus, I knew I could sneak in without getting caught. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first—I wasn’t sure if we were being watched.”
“You are.”
They both yelped as Della blinked into sight near the curtains. “Don’t tell me you thought I’d let you sneak into Sophie’s room while she’s sleeping and not see what you’re up to.”
“Good to know,” Keefe said, striding into the room in a red furry onesie. “And don’t think I was going to allow a Sophex meeting to happen. Hmm, maybe we should call it Deephie. Sophex sounds weird. Anyway, my point is, no secret meetings without me!”
“And me!” Fitz said, trailing behind in furry gray pj’s.
“I’m here too!” Biana appeared in the corner wearing shaggy pink. “I followed my mom when she followed Dex.”
“Wow, it’s really crowded in here,” Sophie mumbled. “And really . . . furry.”
Even Della had a blue onesie that made her look like Cookie Monster.
“Cool, your window is right across from mine!” Keefe said, opening Sophie’s curtains. “We could throw things at each other!”
“Or not.” Della herded everyone to the bed. “Sit. We need to discuss the incredibly dangerous thing Dex has done.”
“It wasn’t dangerous,” Dex argued. “I designed this Evader perfectly.”
He held out the rickety gadget, and Della looked less than impressed.
“Did you find anything good?” Biana asked.
“Hopefully. I got all their prodigy records,” Dex said. “Well, Exillium calls them Waywards, but it’s the same thing. Every kid who’s ever gone there has a file telling what year they started attending, who their family is, how old they are, what their talents are, what they did to get banished—all kinds of stuff. So now we just go through and search for anyone who looks suspicious.”
“What counts as suspicious?” Della asked.
“Well, we sorta know his age, right?” Dex said. “At least a pretty good guess? And we know he was probably at Exillium about eight years ago. So we start with that.”
“That’s still going to leave you with hundreds of different boys,” Della reminded him. “And even if you do find a good candidate, what then?”
“Then I break into the registry—”
“No you do not,” Della interrupted.
“Don’t worry, the registry is super easy to access, and I know how to make sure they don’t catch me. Then I can cross check any suspicious names against pendant locations to find out where they are.”
“You’re assuming they’ll be back in the Lost Cities,” Della said. “I don’t think you understand that Exillium is for the Unworthy. It removes those that do not belong in our world. Anyone sent in error can earn their way back. But very few do. Very few should.”
Sophie wasn’t sure she liked how casually Della talked about banishing, as if it were the perfect solution.
Then again, was locking them in Exile better?
“Well, I still think it’s worth going through the records and seeing what we can learn,” Dex said. “Even if we can’t find the Boy Who Disappeared, we might find a Neverseen member hiding there now.”
“Or it could be a waste of time,” Della countered.
“But its our time to waste,” Keefe said. “And it’s better than reading boring books. Do you know what I learned yesterday? That when our minds break from extreme guilt, they can shatter different ways. Most people shut down and can’t function anymore. But some turn erratic and reckless. Sometimes people even get violent.”
“That’s important!” Della told him.
Sophie had to agree. That explained why Alden went catatonic over his involvement with Prentice’s memory break, while Brant turned into a deadly pyromaniac after he killed Jolie.
“Right, but how long did that take me to explain?” Keefe asked. “Ten seconds? Five? But it took me three hundred and twenty-nine pages to read! So yeah, I’ll take searching through Exillium files any day.”
Della started pacing. “What are the odds of you listening if I tell you not to pursue this?”
“Slim to none,” Keefe said.
“That’s what I thought. So fine—you already have the records. If you want to go through them, I won’t stop you. But no breaking into the registry without consulting with me—clear?”
“Fine,” Dex agreed. “I’ll build something so you guys can see the files I copied. Maybe if I rewire an Imparter—I’d probably need gold instead of copper wire and—”
“Yeah, yeah, Technopath stuff we don’t understand,” Keefe jumped in. “What do we do while you do all of that?”
“How about we change out of these crazy outfits?” Biana said. “I mean really, what was the Black Swan thinking?”
“That if your pajamas were embarrassing enough, you kids would be discouraged from after-curfew meetings.”
Everyone scrambled as Mr. Forkle stalked into the room, followed by Granite and Blur.
“Clearly our plan was not as successful as we’d hoped,” Mr. Forkle said. “Dare we ask what made you willing to suffer the furry disgrace?”
“I think the better question is, what are you guys doing here so early?” Keefe countered.
“We promised we’d report to Ca
lla as soon as we’d learned anything about Wildwood,” Granite said.
“And?” Sophie asked.
“So far there’s been no change—but that’s good news in some ways,” Blur said. “The gnomes’ symptoms seem to be holding steady.”
“But they still don’t have a cure,” Sophie clarified.
“No,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “But they’re working on it.”
“They should have my dad try,” Dex said. “He’s the best alchemist out there.”
“I’m sure he’ll be their next call. Right now Lady Galvin is trying her hand,” Granite said.
Even months later, Sophie still flinched at the name. Her old alchemy instructor had made her first year at Foxfire equal parts humiliating and stressful.
“So if all the best people are working on it,” Sophie said, “why haven’t they found the cure?”
“It comes down to isolating the pathogen,” Mr. Forkle explained. “They haven’t been able to find the source, and without that crucial information, they don’t know what to target. The physicians suspect each gnome is plagued by only a single parasite, so finding it is a bit like that old human expression about needles in haystacks. But at least they’re not pressed for time. The gnomes have responded well to the symptom treatments, so the need for the cure isn’t as dire.”
His eyes drifted to the Evader in Dex’s hand, and his expression darkened. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is—or that you’ve at least had the common sense to not put it to use.”
“Well . . . if you want me to lie . . . ,” Dex mumbled.
Mr. Forkle’s sigh sounded more like a growl. “This is about Exillium, right? I told you it wasn’t worth the risk.”
“But there was no risk,” Dex said, pointing to a thinner wire on the Evader. “I call this a wiper. It erased every step I took, so there’s no way the Council will know I was there.”
Mr. Forkle took the gadget, examining it from all angles. “Well, I’m no Technopath—and this is one of the most bizarre executions I’ve seen—but I must say, it’s rather . . . inspired.”
Blur took the Evader and passed his smudged hand through. “It’s a totally different approach than anything I’ve felt. But maybe that’s what we need.”
Dex looked ready to float away with the praise, and Sophie didn’t blame him. After being underestimated his whole life, he deserved the recognition.
“Do not let our compliments overshadow our disappointment,” Mr. Forkle said, bursting their brand-new bubble. “When we give orders, we expect them to be followed.”
“Not if they’re dumb,” Keefe argued.
“I’m not going to debate this any further,” Mr. Forkle said. He turned to Dex. “I’d rather you focus your energy on a much more important assignment.”
He paused to confer with Blur and Granite before he continued. “You have an incredibly unique approach to technopathy, Mr. Dizznee, and perhaps that fresh take can solve a problem we’ve been facing.”
“For months we’ve been trying to gain access to a secret archive,” Granite jumped in. “In fact, ‘secret’ isn’t a strong enough word. It’s an archive that should not exist. Our best Technopath discovered it, but hasn’t been able to breach beyond that.”
“What kind of archive?” Dex asked.
“We have no idea,” Blur said. “All we know is it’s hidden in Lumenaria.”
Della’s eyes widened.
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle told her. “As I said, it should not exist. Lumenaria is where all the worlds gather for crucial negotiations,” he added when he saw Sophie’s confusion. “Any meetings there are not to be recorded, beyond the wording of the treaties. But it appears that someone has been transcribing the sessions.”
“What kind of security are the files protected by?” Dex asked.
“That’s the strangest part,” Blur told him. “We’d assumed the archive was the Council’s dirty little secret. But it’s guarded by technologies from all of the intelligent species.”
Dex whistled. “So I have to hack ogre technology?”
“And dwarven. And trollish. And goblin. And gnomish. And elvin as well,” Mr. Forkle confirmed.
“I didn’t even know the gnomes had technology,” Biana said.
“Not all technology comes in the form of gadgets,” Blur reminded her. “Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for this, Dex. Only you would build a crazy Evader like that. So let’s see what else you can do.”
“And if you do manage to gain access,” Granite added, “we’d like you to search for information on the Wildwood Colony. The Council’s silence on the plague has made us want to further explore the Colony’s history.”
“I’ll have supplies sent within a few hours,” Mr. Forkle said. “And we need you to make this your number one focus. No more wasting time on this.” He shoved the Evader into his pocket before turning to the rest of them. “You have assignments and training to work through as well. I suggest you get started.”
“Anyone else getting tired of the Black Swan bossing us around?” Keefe asked after they’d de-furry-pajamaed and regrouped in the common room of the boys’ tree house.
The room was decorated like a campsite, with indoor trees, a ceiling glinting with stars, and an enormous fire pit in the center. The flames burned in every color of the rainbow, and Sophie was sure the gnomes meant it to be just as stunning as the waterfall in the girls’ house. But she would never see fire as anything but death and destruction.
“I think they just want to make sure everything goes right when we rescue Prentice,” Biana said. She was working with Della by the window, learning to hold her invisibility in shifting light.
“It is annoying, though,” Sophie mumbled, following Fitz to a clump of boulders that turned out to be beanbag chairs.
Dex had fortunately been smart enough to save a copy of the Exillium records he’d stolen, and he’d promised to make a gadget they could use to search through them. In the meantime, it was back to Cognate training, and it felt extra nerve wracking doing it in front of everyone. Dex had taken over most of the floor with tools and bits of gadget supplies. And Keefe had slumped into a chair in the darkest corner, pretending to read another empathy book. Every few minutes he’d mutter, “This is the stupidest thing ever.”
“Should we start at the beginning?” Fitz asked, opening his Cognate training notebook.
Sophie nodded. Biana hadn’t been exaggerating about Cognates having to share everything. Each exercise was designed to make them reveal more and more secrets.
The first assignment wasn’t that bad. Just a list of questions they were supposed to ask while their minds were connected, so they could see each other’s first thoughts.
“Is it okay if I enter your mind?” Fitz asked.
“Dude, do you realize how creepy that sounds?” Keefe interrupted.
“It’s less creepy than reading her feelings all the time without telling her,” Fitz argued.
“Hey, it’s not like I try to do that! You’re just mad that Foster can’t hide things from me.”
“Pretty soon, she won’t be hiding anything from me, either.”
“Yeah, and I can feel how not excited she is about that all the way over here.”
Fitz turned to Sophie. “Is that true?”
“You make her super nervous,” Keefe answered for her.
Sophie wished the Black Swan had given her laser eyes so she could skewer Keefe with her death glare.
“I take it that’s a yes?” Fitz asked.
“Well . . . yeah. But, have you met you?” she asked. “You’re, like, Captain Perfect! And I’m—”
“The most powerful elf our world has ever known?” Fitz finished.
“Grady’s way more powerful than me.”
“Grady is powerful,” Della jumped in. “But not as powerful as you’d think.”
“How can you say that?” Sophie asked. “Grady made all twelve Councillors smack themselves in the face!”
D
ella laughed. “Wish I’d been there to see that. But I’ve seen him test his power, and his limit was twenty-four people—and that left him drained and vulnerable. He can also only maintain his hold for so long. I assume that’s why the Black Swan didn’t make you a Mesmer. Mesmers have limits, and their power rarely triggers a permanent solution. Did the Council suddenly change their minds because of what Grady did?”
“They backed down a little.” But Della had a point. In the end, Grady still had to let her be sentenced to the telepathy restrictor.
Sophie gave Fitz permission, but before he could pass her blocking, Keefe slammed down his book and shouted, “I refuse to read this!”
“The book can’t be that bad,” Della insisted.
“Yeah, it is. My dad wrote it.”
“Your dad’s a writer?” Sophie asked.
“More like a torturer of innocent readers.” He held up the cover as proof. The Heart of the Matter, by Lord Cassius Sencen. “It’s just a long ramble about how he’s the only one smart enough to realize that emotions come from both the heart and the brain, and that Empaths can only read what’s in the mind. Too bad he forgot to explain why anyone cares!”
Sophie hoped Keefe was far enough away that he couldn’t tell she actually found the idea fascinating. Councillor Bronte had taught her that inflicting pulled emotions from her heart—and Fitz had seen an emotional center in her mind. So did that mean people could feel different things in different places?
Okay, I’m in! Fitz transmitted, making her jump. Sorry, I thought you could feel me slip through.
Nope. I never know you’re there until you say something. Is that how it is for you? She stretched out her consciousness until she could hear his thoughts. Did you feel that?
I wish. I always catch everyone else. My old Mentor said I should be a Keeper someday. And the fact that you can sneak by me means you would make an awesome Probe.
Huh. I always thought I was a Keeper, since, y’know, secret information planted in my brain and all.
Well, I’m pretty sure you could be either one. Way to make the rest of us look bad.