He plunged into a ring of tall bushes. To his relief, no one else was there. He sank down on a wooden bench beside a dry fountain. His vision was swimming— no, patches of the ground actually were blurry green spots instead of real grass. Ross smiled. The patches were too small to conceal rabbit burrows, so they must be gopher illusions.
Sure enough, a few fat gophers popped out and scampered right up to him, then sat up and begged. They seemed completely tame, like the rats in Las Anclas.
“Sorry.” Ross held out his empty hands. “I don’t have any food for you.”
The gophers looked up hopefully at him, noses twitching.
“Next time, okay?”
They waited a while, then gave up and trundled back into their hidden homes.
Ross took a deep breath. It felt good to be alone. No mysterious shadows crept along the bushes, and all he saw overhead were tree branches, rustling with nothing but the breeze, and a few hawks making lazy circles in the sky.
He wondered how far Voske’s spy thing reached, and whether the king was using the artifact Min Soo had mentioned, or the invisible son that Ross had heard rumors of before he’d come to Las Anclas. Or both. Whatever it was, the king couldn’t possibly watch everyone, all the time, in all situations, or he wouldn’t have time to do anything else.
On the other hand, Voske had known when Las Anclas was holding a dance, and when Ross planned to visit the ruined city. But he hadn’t known that Ross’s singing tree even existed, or he wouldn’t have sent his men right past it at the end of the battle.
Maybe the mystery artifact couldn’t see, but could only hear voices.
One thing Ross was sure of: it couldn’t see in the dark.
Ross forced himself to return to the main street. He thanked the soldier waiting patiently with Sally. The woman saluted again. When Ross mounted Sally, she made a grab for his ankle. This time he was ready for it, and simply reached down and unhooked her tail.
They ambled down the street, then followed a canal into farmland, until they came within sight of the town wall, topped by marching sentries. Beyond the walls, mountains loomed, bisected by a deep valley.
At the top of the V, he could barely make out the dam Kerry had mentioned, surrounded by tiny twinkles of light. Gold Point’s main power source! Those glints of light had to be sentries with field glasses, sweeping constantly.
Ross was within sight of two sentry towers, both decorated with a pair of gleaming white skulls. Wishing he hadn’t seen those, he rode up a hill. Let the sentries watch him tie the reins to a tree branch and sit on the grass.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, searching for singing trees. At first he saw nothing but the red glare of sunlight against his eyelids, and heard nothing but bird calls and the rustle of leaves. Then chimes began to tinkle and ring. A forest of singing trees grew in the distance, too far for him to catch more than a sense of their presence. But five trees grew closer, their music bright and clear in his mind.
Five singing trees in a clump near Gold Point. That was odd. Ross decided to take a quick look. It was the deeper memories that were dangerous. He made sure the wall in his mind was secure, then cracked open the door.
He saw Voske’s face.
The image was as vivid as if the man were standing over Ross. Then the color shifted to red, the image blurred, and Voske became a silhouette of heat, seen as a crystal tree sees. The image repeated from slightly different perspectives, four more times. Voske had been present at the birth of each one of those trees.
Ross had to know what happened. He’d risk a peek into the last memory of one tree. Bracing himself, he opened the door in his mind a little wider.
I’d been so sure it would work for me. The surgeon was standing right there, holding my hand, scalpel ready.
The dying woman stared down at her arm. The bone within had turned to scarlet crystal.
Ross tried to stay clear of the pain of her last moments, and only hear her thoughts and see what she had seen. She was picturing the moment when she’d raised her hand and volunteered, and wishing she could take it back. She looked up at the sun, which splintered into a thousand facets of liquid light. The whole sky turned to brilliant crimson before pain overwhelmed her.
Ross had to get out before he fell any farther into memories. He couldn’t breathe or see or feel the ground beneath his feet. Then he brushed up against the cool steel of the door in his mind. He threw himself through, and slammed it behind him.
He looked up, gasping for breath. The sun dazzled his eyes, which were blurred with tears. He rubbed his hand across his face. His cheeks were wet.
As his vision cleared, he saw that he was surrounded by soldiers. Ross stared in horror. They knew!
One of them laughed, but another punched him in the arm. The laughing man instantly sobered.
They had no idea what he’d been doing. They must have thought he was sitting there feeling sorry for himself. The captain saluted Ross as he defiantly scrubbed his crimson sleeve across his eyes. They could believe whatever they wanted, as long as they didn’t know the truth.
“We were afraid you were lost, sir,” said the captain. “We’ve come to escort you back to the palace.”
Ross had a splitting headache, and his legs wobbled as he stood up. He wished he had Dr. Lee’s headache elixir. More than that, he wished he was back in Las Anclas with Mia. He imagined her arms around him, holding him tight . . .
“Do you need help mounting, sir?”
Ross gritted his teeth and hauled himself onto Sally, hoping she wouldn’t try to unseat him. He’d probably fall off if she did. She flattened her ears, but the captain gave her a warning smack on the nose before she could try anything.
As they rode past the garrison, he wondered how many people knew about Voske’s experiments.
The parade ground in front of the palace had been transformed. A platform had been erected in the center, with a table holding the objects Santiago had described. The royal family sat on a dais at the palace terrace, their table set with golden dishes. Decorated tables were scattered around the perimeter, occupied by people in fine clothes. The scene reminded Ross of the dance at Las Anclas, when Jennie had worn that tight red dress. Here, only the royal family—and Ross—wore red.
Kerry ran to Ross’s stirrup. “Did you have a good ride? I love Sally.”
Ross slid down, trying not to lean against Sally for support. She’d bite him for sure. Sally gave him what he could swear was a contemptuous glance, then nuzzled Kerry.
Kerry’s smile vanished as she inspected him more closely. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
As Ross slumped reluctantly at Voske’s right hand, he thought grimly, He can kill me, but he can’t make me do anything.
A servant piled pork ribs and gravy-drenched mashed potatoes on his plate. The sight and smell ought to be tempting. But he already felt sick, and that made it worse. He edged his chair back.
Voske was watching him. “Drink up, Ross. Something cold will do you good.”
A golden goblet stood by Ross’s golden plate. He picked it up. The cold metal sides were beaded with moisture. He had never seen so much gold in his life, much less touched it. But all he wanted to do was press it against his forehead. The liquid inside smelled like strong alcohol. He put the goblet down. The last thing he needed was to have his reflexes slowed and his mind clouded.
Kerry spoke softly to a hovering servant. A few minutes later, a mug was placed before him, and a familiar, astringent scent wafted up.
She nudged the cup toward his hand. “You rode too long in the sun, didn’t you? It’s so tempting to do that with Sally. She rides like a dream. Have some willow bark tea. It’ll make you feel better.”
Ross sipped the bitter brew gratefully, not minding the heat, and soon his headache lessened. But he couldn’t stop picturing bones turning to scarlet crystal. His gauntlet weighed on his left arm, and the scar pulled and ached.
Voske’s voice made him jump. “Not hungry yet? Take a walk with me. It’ll wake up your appetite.”
Ross followed Voske into the throne room. It was much cooler than the terrace, which had been baking in the late-afternoon sun.
“Let me make sure you’re prepared for Opportunity Day.” Voske leaned against the white marble throne like a black-clad silhouette, the light glinting in his silver hair and on the silver belt buckle at his waist. He wore no weapons that Ross could see, and he stood a bare step outside of Ross’s striking range.
Ross ground his teeth. Voske was deliberately out of range. The man thought like a fighter, he moved like a fighter, he gauged distance like a fighter. By the time Ross could close with him, he’d have shouted for his guards. They’d pull Ross off before he could do more than bruise the king, and then Voske would have his head chopped off.
The king eyed Ross knowingly, then smiled. That same watchful expression, that same expectant smile, had been the last thing that five people had seen before they died. Voske’s face dissolved into a heat image.
“Ross, this is important,” Voske said. “Are you listening?”
Alarm flashed through Ross. “Yes.”
Voske lifted a casual hand as if that unspoken exchange had never taken place. “You heard what happens when Opportunity Day goes well: a candidate gets a power, even if it’s not quite the one they wanted. Sometimes they don’t have the potential to Change, and nothing happens. But we hold Opportunity Day every month, and about once or twice per year it doesn’t go well.”
Was this how Voske meant to threaten or bribe him?
“I’m already Changed,” Ross said. “You can’t Change twice.”
Mia and Dr. Lee thought his ability to communicate with singing trees wasn’t a true Change, but maybe Voske didn’t know that.
Voske laughed. “I wasn’t going to ask you to volunteer. You already have an extremely valuable Change. Your role in this will be different. As I was saying, sometimes it doesn’t go well. We don’t know why, but every now and then, a candidate dies. The family still gets the volunteer reward, plus compensation, but it can be quite a shock.”
Ross blurted out, “People die twice a year, and you still do it?”
“The risk is worth it. Many more people die in battle.”
Ross didn’t think that dying in one of Voske’s battles, invading some other town, was any better.
“I’ve chosen you for a particular honor,” Voske said. “As I told you, each Opportunity Day, five candidates are presented. Usually we draw straws, but today, you will choose the candidate.”
“I won’t do it.” Every muscle in Ross’s body tensed.
Voske’s gaze was unsurprised. “Normally, the candidates who weren’t selected go back home and are exempt forever after. But if you don’t pick one, all five of them will go through it. It’s up to you.”
Ross stared at that smiling face, sick with anger.
“Why don’t you take a stroll around the ground?” Voske went on. “Get to know them. Make an informed choice.” He straightened up, still out of striking range. And still smiling. “But you will choose.”
Ross almost ran Kerry down as he rushed outside.
“I’ll introduce you to the candidates,” she said.
“You knew,” he said bitterly, following her. “You knew he was going to do that.”
“You don’t want to choose?” She watched him like her father had watched the dying woman, like she was curious to see what would happen. “Don’t you feel powerful?”
In his entire life, Ross had never felt more powerless.
When he didn’t reply, Kerry went on, “It’ll be interesting to see how you do. Only one of my picks Changed, and it was nothing special. What’s the use of levitating three inches off the ground? She got stuck like that, too—never did learn to control it. But maybe you’ll have better luck.”
He couldn’t believe that Kerry simply didn’t care. She didn’t even seem to understand why anyone would. “Did you think it was bad luck when your father killed five people with crystal shards?”
Kerry stopped short. “What are you talking about?”
“Five people. Five trees. On a hill south of your city walls.”
“No, those grew from a coyote pack.” She seemed to believe it.
He yanked up his sleeve, pulled off his gauntlet, and showed her the scar that ran the length of his forearm. “I was hit by a single shard, and I cut it out before it could kill me. That’s how I got my power. Your father tried to give my power to five people, but they didn’t get the shards out in time. They all died.” He caught his breath, remembering the stabbing pain of crystal twining around bone. “In agony.”
“Who told you that story?” she demanded.
Ross knew he should keep quiet, but he couldn’t help himself. “Nobody told me. I saw it. That’s part of my power.”
“You’re lying. Nobody would do that.”
“Five people must be missing. Three men and two women.” He thought back to the flood of memories he’d received. Everything those people had thought of as they were dying had been imprinted into the trees that grew from their bodies. “There was a Changed woman. She could make plants grow. She had a toddler.” He thought again. “A son. With dark hair.”
Ross watched Kerry’s face closely. When he mentioned the woman’s Change, her lips twitched.
“She died on patrol.” Kerry sounded angry. “Come on. You have to meet the candidates.”
Ten people sat at the richly decorated table, five dressed in white, and others in colors. As Kerry approached, nine of them stood and saluted. One of those dressed in white sat head down on the table, sobbing, as an older woman in blue tried to console the dark-haired figure.
Ross thought, Not that one.
As Kerry introduced the candidates, Ross tried to figure out how to decide between the four others. He supposed he should pick the one who looked toughest, best able to survive whatever would happen.
“I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” Kerry said icily.
She walked away, leaving Ross with the candidates and their companions: loved ones, Kerry had said.
Ross cleared his throat. “Please. Sit down.” He dropped into a chair, his knees watery.
The candidate nearest to him was a woman with a gray braid that fell to her hips. She looked tough, come to think of it. Actually, she reminded him of his grandmother.
He couldn’t pick her.
Ross felt sick. He’d left the throne room certain that he wouldn’t cooperate, and here he was, deciding people’s fates. He couldn’t let all of them risk death.
He looked past the old man sitting with the grandmother to the next candidate, a woman in her mid-thirties cuddled up with another woman of the same age. They wore steel wedding rings. The candidate was thin and pale, with a drawn look to her face, as if she was recovering from some illness. Her wife had her fists clenched, almost vibrating with fury, and wouldn’t meet Ross’s eyes. Ross wished he could tell her she had nothing to worry about. There was no way he’d choose anyone who looked that fragile.
The remaining candidates were his age. Luis, the boy, was tall and muscular. He wore white, but he bore himself like a soldier. The strong-looking girl with him, who had her hand on his thigh, wore a military uniform.
Andrea, the other candidate, sat with her identical twin. Both were plain and weedy, with long sand-colored braids, and they held hands so tightly that their knuckles were blotched red and white.
“Did you come from the coast, Ross?” Luis asked. “What’s the ocean like?”
“Big,” Ross said. “Really big. Blue all the way to the horizon. In all directions.”
“That sounds spooky,” Andrea said. She tossed her head so her sandy braids flapped; she was trying hard to sound brave. Her twin giggled, a high, nervous sound.
“I think it sounds cool,” Luis said. “Though I’m not sure I want to try being in a boat.” He laughed. “I’ve never even
seen a boat.”
His girlfriend gave him a smacking kiss, then said, “And you never will, if I have my way. I was in a rowboat once. I’ve never been so sick in my life!” She stroked the back of his neck, and he twined his arm tightly around her waist.
Ross couldn’t decide between Luis and Andrea. Would it be worse if something terrible happened to your lover or your twin? He ground his teeth, hating Voske for forcing him to make that decision.
“Did you guys volunteer, or were you—” Forced? “Picked?” Ross asked.
There was total silence. Even the head-down candidate stopped sobbing.
Luis’s girlfriend said quickly, “It’s an honor to win the lottery. Especially if you’re in the army. Even if you don’t get a good power, or any power, you’ve shown courage in front of him.” She touched two fingers to the hair at her temple in an odd, ritualistic gesture.
Luis made a forced shrug. “If I do get chosen, I should get a good power. My grandmother could lift little objects, and one of my uncles can predict the weather. They’re not spectacular powers, but they’re useful.”
Andrea’s twin said, “The only person in our family who ever Changed was our aunt Julia, when she got pregnant. Her hearing got so sharp that she could hear conversations three blocks away. Everyone had to tiptoe around the house, because any noise louder than a whisper gave her terrible headaches. Then she died in childbirth.”
“Shh, Amber! Don’t talk about that.” Andrea added mechanically, “It’s an honor to be chosen.”
“An honor,” her twin agreed, bobbing her head so vehemently that Ross’s skin crawled.
A flicker of white and red approached. It was Min Soo, walking at a stately pace.
She stepped onto the platform, then gestured toward the candidates’ table, her long sleeves fluttering. “Who has the honor of being chosen?”
Ross wanted to shout, “I won’t do it!”
Voske smiled straight at Ross. It was a cool smile, with no mercy in it. Ross knew Voske meant what he’d said. If Ross didn’t choose one, all five would have to take the risk.
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