No. The Chancellor was not stupid. She would surely order Raffa to guide the expedition to recover the bear, and would not release Mohan until the bear was back in Gilden. If Raffa led the searchers astray, it would go far worse for both himself and Da.
Jayney made a noise that sounded like a growl. “You and your stubborn father,” he said. “Your mother is the only one of you who sees sense.”
Raffa stiffened. What was he saying about his mother? “Aunt Salima has been working in the laboratory. . . .” Those were Garith’s words. Raffa hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but what Jayney had just said made him realize that his mother must be working alongside Uncle Ansel.
Could she be helping with the dreaded project? Was that why she had refused to testify in Da’s favor?
Raffa doubled over, nearly sick at the thought. No, Mam, no no no . . .
“I will give you a few days to reconsider,” Jayney said. “Your cooperation would be advisable. It would be much less pleasant for both of us if you have to be . . . forced to respond.”
Torture. He’s talking about torturing me.
Raffa had a brave, foolish vision of himself withstanding physical pain, refusing to answer, no matter what they did to him. He straightened up and tried to look impassive. Jayney was still speaking.
“I’m told that you were at the hearing. Well, then, you saw how little it takes to bring about the desired result.”
The hearing? What was he talking about?
Jayney was watching him closely. After a moment, he said, “Mannum Pelanade has a lovely family, don’t you think?”
With those words, the shiver that had chilled Raffa in the hearings chamber returned with twice the strength, like a lump of ice thrust down his throat. They forced Mannum Pelanade to lie! All they had to do was show him his family. If he hadn’t said what they wanted him to, they would have done the family harm somehow!
“Oh, good. I can see that you understand now,” Jayney said, like a master pleased with an apprentice. “And another thing to remember: A house is but a building. It can be replaced, rebuilt. Even better than before.”
Raffa could make no sense of the sudden change in subject. Why was Jayney talking in riddles?
“Not so with people,” Jayney went on. “A father, especially, is irreplaceable.”
Jayney’s meaning struck Raffa like a blow, and he collapsed onto all fours like an animal.
He’s talking about the cabin—they’re the ones who burned it down! And he’s saying that . . . just like with Pelanade, if I don’t tell him where Roo is, they’ll torture Da, not me—
“Think about it, young Santana,” Jayney said, his tone as light as if discussing a picnic. “I will be back in a few days for your decision.”
As the sound of footfalls faded, Raffa put his face in the filth of the cell floor and wept.
A night and a day passed. Raffa’s awareness of time came only from the narrow stripes of sunlight that reached the cell floor from the windows of the stairwell. He dozed for brief, fitful snatches of time, in constant fear of the rats.
At one point, a silent guard opened the cell door just enough to shove in a bowl of muddy gruel and another of water. Otherwise, Raffa had no contact with anyone. The darkness and loneliness made him feel as if he were going mad.
Jayney’s threat hovered over his thoughts, lurked under them, circled endlessly. Tell the truth about Roo, enabling the Chancellor to recapture her—and force her to become a terrible weapon? Or refuse to answer, dooming Da to unimaginable torture?
If only he had a way to get a message to Kuma! Then I could tell Jayney about the gorge, but Kuma could move Roo somewhere else before he gets there.
No matter how long and hard Raffa racked his brain, he could not think of a way to reach Kuma.
The only break in his dread of Jayney was the thought of the second hearing that loomed ahead. If he confessed and gave details of the fire that only he knew, the Deemers would surely sentence him for the crime, and Da would go free.
But the sentence would be a term in the Garrison. A term of years. How would he endure it?
I can’t. I can’t!
He retched in terror. When the spasm passed, he thought, If I let him, Da will take the blame and I’ll be released.
Shame overcame him before he had even finished that thought. But I have to tell the truth! I can’t let them sentence Da instead!
The fear and the shame alternated in his mind until he was dizzy. His time in the Garrison already felt like an eternity—yet it was passing all too quickly toward Jayney’s return. Where was Mam? Why hadn’t she come to see him?
He tried desperately to cheer himself by thinking of his friends. Garith, Kuma, Trixin, Jimble . . . Did they even know where he was? Maybe Kuma had reached Gilden by now. Maybe she had gotten together with Garith, and they were planning to—to—
To what?
To stop the project, he told himself doggedly. He hoped with all his heart that his efforts at the compound had not been completely futile. At Kuma’s settlement, foxes and stoats had been a vital part of the attack. Raffa had released a shedful of each: Would that be enough to delay an attack on the slums—on people like Davvis and Jimble’s other friends, whose lives were already a struggle?
Raffa slumped on the pile of soiled straw. He was not asleep, but not truly awake either; numbness was his only refuge.
A tiny noise from a corner of the cell. He tensed. Something was moving about there. Another rat? He dragged himself into a crouch, ready to swat or kick if anything touched him.
He waited, hearing only the sounds of his own breathing. Then—a pinch on his shoulder! He jerked his head violently, but before he could slap the creature away, he heard a familiar, beloved squeak.
“Ouch!” Echo said.
Raffa cried out, a wordless sound of pain and joy and despair and relief. He cupped Echo in both palms close to his cheek, sobbing so hard that he almost choked.
“You found me!” he gasped between sobs. “You came back to me!”
Echo gave a little shake and began to groom himself. “Water,” he said.
Raffa sniffled, then gulped and hiccupped as his sobs began to ebb. “Are you thirsty, Echo?”
“Not thirsty,” the bat replied. “Rain.”
Was it raining? It had been dry when Raffa was last outdoors, which now seemed like years ago.
“Salty,” Echo said. “Raffa eyes, rain salty.”
“Rain salty—oh. Oh, that’s what you mean.” He put Echo on his sleeve so he could wipe his eyes. “Yes, Echo, I was—my eyes were—raining salty. It’s okay, I’ve stopped now, see?”
His smile was small and shaky, but how good it felt to smile! Raffa had no idea what would happen next, but he knew one thing sure upon certain: His journey with Echo could not end here, in a squalid, hopeless cell—he simply would not allow it. Whatever the road ahead, he swore from the depths of his heart that they would travel it together.
“How did you find me?” Raffa asked in wonder.
“Talk Jimble, find Raffa,” Echo chirped.
So they do know where I am, he thought. He stroked Echo, and the warmth of the bat’s tiny body seemed to spread from his fingertip through his whole being. “I’m sorry I got your fur wet,” he said softly.
“Raffa good.”
“Echo good.”
Echo had brought more than just comfort.
He had given Raffa hope.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to Cece Bell, for her immediate and gracious response to my request that she read the manuscript of this book and comment on the depiction of Garith’s deafness. Any errors that remain are entirely my responsibility.
Many other people supported me during the writing of this book, including:
Team HarperCollins, especially my editor, Abby Ranger.
Ginger Knowlton, Marnie Zoldessy, and everyone at Curtis Brown, Ltd.
Julie Damerell, always my right arm and often my le
ft, too.
Steve and Vicki Palmquist at Winding Oak.
Writer and illustrator friends, and other colleagues from the book world: If you’re wondering whether or not I mean you, the answer is yes. You are my community.
Steve Mooser and Lin Oliver. The volunteers at SCBWI, RACWI, and We Need Diverse Books (an entire herd of alpacas to the incredible Publishing Internship Committee). All those working to connect young readers to books, with a shout-out to the dedicated teachers and librarians.
My extended family, especially Ed Park, Craig Park, and Anna Dobbin. Extra hugs to Callan and Hattie for lighting up my days.
Ben, my left midfielder.
And a special note of thanks to fans of the first Wing & Claw book: I’m so glad you love Echo as much as I do. Your enthusiasm inspires and sustains me.
BACK AD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Sonya Sones
LINDA SUE PARK, recipient of the Newbery Medal for A Single Shard, is the bestselling author of many books for young readers, including picture books, poetry, and historical and contemporary fiction. Born in Illinois, Ms. Park has also lived in California, England, and Ireland. She and her husband, a journalist, now live in Rochester, New York, and have two grown children. Learn more at www.lindasuepark.com.
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BOOKS BY LINDA SUE PARK
NOVELS
Wing & Claw: Forest of Wonders
Seesaw Girl
The Kite Fighters
A Single Shard
When My Name Was Keoko
Project Mulberry
Archer’s Quest
Keeping Score
The 39 Clues: Storm Warning
A Long Walk to Water
The 39 Clues: Trust No One
PICTURE BOOKS
Yaks Yak!
The Firekeeper’s Son
Mung-Mung
What Does Bunny See?
Yum! Yuck!
Tap Dancing on the Roof
Bee-bim Bop!
The Third Gift
Xander’s Panda Party
CREDITS
COVER ART © 2017 BY JIM MADSEN
COVER DESIGN BY JOE MERKEL
COPYRIGHT
WING & CLAW #2: CAVERN OF SECRETS. Copyright © 2017 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
* * *
ISBN 978-0-06-232741-3
EPub Edition © February 2017 ISBN 9780062327437
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Map by Mike Schley
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FIRST EDITION
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Cavern of Secrets Page 18
