He was halfway through his pancakes when a crash startled him. Santiago had dropped his coffee mug into his plate of uneaten food. He stared at the spilled coffee as though he’d lost something.
“Nervous? You’ll be safe. Have some more.” Voske snapped his fingers, and a young soldier hurried to refill his cup.
Santiago started to raise it to his lips, but coffee spilled down the front of his shirt. His hands were shaking. He put it down. “I’ve had enough.”
Ross had been right. Santiago had been assigned to guard him, and naturally he was afraid of the singing trees. Ross wished he could tell Santiago that he would be safe, but he couldn’t say anything in front of Voske. He silently finished his meal.
“Come along, boys,” Voske said.
His guards closed in, rifles at the ready. Ross had expected that, too. He scowled at them, and followed with lagging steps. Santiago was breathing heavily as he walked, obsessively fingering his belt knives.
The last time Ross had visited the city, he’d only seen the forest from a distance. Now he could see that while these singing trees were also the dull colors of the desert animals they’d killed and grown from, their shapes were subtly different from the trees by Las Anclas. Rather than sharp thorns and spikes, the branches ended in complex patterns like the frost he occasionally saw on winter mornings. The seed-pods, too, were different: not round, but shaped like teardrops.
Ross halted. He’d been keeping the walls in his mind built up, so he hadn’t sensed anything. He’d let Voske force him to agree to go in, and then explain that he needed a little time to make his power work.
“Go ahead, Ross,” Voske said. “Find me some good artifacts. Especially, look for weapons.”
“No,” Ross said, as sulkily as he could. He folded his arms across his chest. “I won’t do it.”
He waited for Voske to threaten him, but the king just laughed. “Ross, when are you going to learn that it’s easier to follow orders? Santiago, it’s time. Go.”
His face blanched to gray, Santiago started toward the crystal trees. One hopeless glance from his dark eyes, then he was past Ross, walking stiffly up the ancient road that led into the forest. Shocked, Ross waited for him to stop, but he kept going.
The trees began to chime.
Ross shuddered. “Wait!”
“Keep going, Santiago,” Voske said, still chuckling. “Over to you, Ross.”
Ross bolted, sick with fury. He didn’t have time to contact the trees in the careful way he’d planned. Ross grabbed Santiago’s bare hand, shut his eyes, and tore down the walls in his mind.
One brutal stab of pain, and Ross managed to shove the death memories aside.
The singing trees had been born from the deaths of animals. There were fewer memories to contend with, and they were less vivid than those of human-born trees. It was much easier to avoid them, and communicate directly with the trees themselves.
He saw himself as the trees perceived him: a blood-hot, moving source of food or reproduction. He forced a new image of himself and Santiago on the trees: a cold, crystalline self. We’re part of you. We’re part of the forest.
Ross sank into the perceptions of the trees, trying to believe that he was one of them until they believed it, too. He willed his branches to be still—sensed the cool water deep under his roots—listened to the distant murmurs and chimes. In the walled-off corner of his mind that was still human, he felt himself moving forward. He fiercely told the trees, The wind is moving in my branches.
The nearest tree was trying to communicate in the language of words that Ross was trying not to think in. He ignored the distraction. Instead, he let his awareness spread throughout the forest. He could perceive slow-eddies of heat, and above those the cooler, moister current rolling toward them from over the hills.
He was falling. There was nothing beneath his roots—his feet. He sucked in a gulp of cold, moist air, and choked on it. Ross thrashed frantically. He could see nothing but murky green. He couldn’t breathe. A weight on his back pulled him down, but he fought his way upward.
His face broke into hot air and greenish light. Water! They’d fallen into a pond. He treaded water. Someone thrashed desperately a few feet away. Santiago obviously couldn’t swim, and his pack was weighing him down.
Ross swam over and grabbed him. Santiago clutched at him in a panic, pinning his arms.
“Let go!” Ross shouted. “I’ve got you.”
Santiago released his grip.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” Ross told him.
Santiago’s fingers dug into muscle as Ross towed him across the water. The whole pond was at the bottom of a high-walled green funnel.
Ross scrabbled at the walls, but his hands slipped off. The funnel was smooth and resilient as the leaves of a succulent plant. He dug his nails into the wall, and they broke through. Sticky juice oozed out, sending out a pungent odor.
He lifted his left hand, straightened his fingers, and locked them into place in the gauntlet. Ross drove his fingertips into the wall. They punched through, leaving him a handhold.
“Climb out,” said Santiago. “I’ll follow you.”
Ross punched his way up the succulent wall, until he hauled himself over the edge and lay panting on a mossy bank. He scrubbed his sticky hands off on his shirt, then wiped green slime from his face.
Santiago flopped down beside him. He, too, was covered in bright green sap from the wall and darker green algae from the pond. He sat up and looked back at the crystal trees on the other side of the pond. Their chiming had stopped.
Greenish light filtered through a leafy canopy that blocked out the entire sky. Vines threaded through the canopy, and furry animals darted and bounced through it, high above. Leaves drifted down in the animals’ wake. Here and there Ross glimpsed little bridges and catwalks woven from the vines, similar to the raccoon-built structures infesting the Vardams’ fruit orchards. Creatures with long furry tails bounded in and out of their woven homes.
Huge smooth boles of the supporting trees grew everywhere, but through them he made out the remains of the ancient road. Once he’d dealt with Santiago, he should be able to walk straight through.
His head ached, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been the last time he’d contacted the crystal trees. It must be easier when the trees hadn’t grown from humans.
Santiago was shaking out his rifle and grimacing. Good. His gunpowder was ruined.
“Thanks for fishing me out,” Santiago said. “I guess you learned in the ocean, huh?”
Ross ignored that. “Listen, Santiago. I’m leaving. Come with me. Kerry’s in Las Anclas. If you want to go back there with me, I’ll speak up for you. Trust me, life is much better there. People don’t look over their shoulders—”
“Don’t say stuff like that!” Santiago looked over his shoulder, then up at the thick foliage overhead.
“Voske can’t hear us here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter if he can. If we get moving now, we’ll be out the other side before he can do anything.” Ross stood up.
Santiago leaped to his feet, one hand on his knife. “I can’t let you escape.”
Ross stepped out of striking distance. “If you’d rather, I’ll make it look like I dragged you out through the trees, then knocked you out and ran. But I’m not prospecting for Voske. And I don’t see why you should be loyal to him. He nearly got you killed.”
“Come closer,” Santiago muttered, still clutching his knife. He looked fearfully around again. “I won’t hurt you.”
Ross took a step nearer, ready for anything.
Santiago spoke barely above a whisper. “If I don’t bring you back, Voske will kill someone in my family. Sometimes people do run away from Gold Point. When they do, Voske makes an example of whoever he thinks they loved most. Maria-Elena is only six. But the king wouldn’t hesitate.”
Ross stared at Santiago in horror. He wanted to believe that Santia
go was lying, but he remembered how desperately his family had tried to please Ross— how his littlest sister, Maria-Elena, had showed Ross her pet walking stick and its “tricks.” He remembered the quinceañera where he had been the center of attention, not the girl supposedly being feted. Now it all made sense.
“I know you can beat me,” Santiago added. “But please don’t. The king knows Maria-Elena is my favorite. He teases me about it. She’s only—“
“I get it!” Ross could easily see Voske killing a six-year-old. He’d never even stop smiling. His hatred for Voske nearly choked him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. “Let’s check out the city.”
As they walked up the cracked concrete road, Ross tried to figure out how to escape without endangering Santiago’s baby sister. He couldn’t ditch Santiago in the city, or even outside of it. He’d have to wait to make his escape until Santiago wasn’t around at all. In the meantime, he had to stall Voske.
They emerged from the forest. Uneven mounds of moss and lichen lined both sides of the road, which wound up into the hills. Based on his experience with ruins and on the pictures he’d seen of ancient cities, he guessed that the smaller mounds were cars, and the larger ones were the overgrown ruins of buildings. Ross kept walking, not paying them any special notice, hoping Santiago would take them for natural formations.
Santiago looked around eagerly, still clutching his ruined rifle. “What’s that over there? It looks like a door!”
Santiago ran toward what was, unfortunately, clearly a building turned on its side. The rectangles on the fallen roof, covered with a subtly different type of plant life, were probably valuable solar panels. Ross didn’t feel inclined to give Voske any.
“Don’t run in,” Ross called. “These structures can collapse on you if you step wrong.”
“I know,” Santiago called back. “Pru’s told us gory stories. I’ll just stick my nose in that opening there.”
Reluctantly, Ross joined him at the door. If it looked like anything valuable might be inside, Ross would swear that the whole place would fall down around their ears if they so much as set foot inside the doorway. The structure looked stable, but nothing was visible inside but a few moldering shovels and rakes.
“I have to inspect the structure,” Ross said. “It’ll take a while.”
Santiago turned away impatiently. “Why? This one is worthless, even I can see that.” He looked up the street, his impatience vanishing. “Hey,” he exclaimed. “All these mounds? I think they’re all buildings! Little ones and big ones!”
Ross hid a sigh. So much for claiming nothing was here.
Santiago pointed to what had to be a moss-covered car. “How about that one there?”
Ross surveyed the untouched street, frustrated. It was the best prospecting site he’d ever seen—and he couldn’t do any real prospecting. In fact, he had to do the opposite of prospecting, and try not to find any treasures.
If he could figure out which buildings were most likely to have finds, he could direct Santiago away from those. But he could only stall so long. If there was anything valuable lying out in the open, eventually Santiago would find it. And since they were the first people to set foot here in hundreds of years, every building might contain some priceless artifact.
Santiago trotted up to the nearest mound, grabbed a mass of greenery with his bare hands, and pulled it out of his way so he could peer into a window.
“Don’t do that!” Ross exclaimed.
Santiago gave him an exasperated look. “Nothing can fall on me from here. I checked.”
“You didn’t check those plants. They might be toxic.”
Santiago stepped back, and Ross scanned the plant life. Much of it was unfamiliar, but he recognized enough. He saw plenty that would make you sick, but only if you ate it. Santiago was undoubtedly familiar with poison oak. Then he spotted a doorway overgrown with the delicate fronds of itching nettle, weaving in and out of a net of harmless passion vine.
Hoping that Santiago either wouldn’t recognize or wouldn’t notice the itching nettle, Ross pretended to survey the buildings. “Nothing much here.” He indicated them one by one: “No way in there . . . That one looks unstable . . . Definitely don’t go in that one, it’ll collapse like a house of cards if you cough on it.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” remarked Santiago, but he sounded amused, not angry. “So the house of cards looks good, huh? Let’s check it out. You first.”
Ross pulled some of the vines aside, making sure to get a good grip on the nettles. The interior was full of moldering lumps that might have once been furniture, and the structure looked stable. Ross pushed through, letting the nettles brush against his cheeks, then dropped them so they fell against Santiago as he followed Ross in.
Before Ross could warn him not to touch anything, Santiago curiously poked at a large lump on the floor. It collapsed in an explosion of yellow dust that reminded Ross of fungus spores. Holding his breath, he gestured to Santiago and hurried out.
The nettles were already beginning to have an effect. His face and right hand itched fiercely, burning as a rash spread over them. Santiago scratched his hands without seeming to notice the red bumps puffing up into welts with every scratch.
“We have to get out of here,” said Ross.
“What do you mean? We haven’t found anything yet.”
“Look at your hands,” Ross held his own up for inspection. “And my face. We have to get out of here before our eyes swell shut.”
Santiago frantically brushed at his eyes—ensuring that he spread the nettle hairs all over his eyelids. “Was it that dust?”
Ross shrugged. “It looked like fungus spores. Some kinds of spores can give you rashes.”
It was true. And some kinds could germinate in your lungs and grow until they choked you to death, but Ross decided not to scare Santiago pointlessly. If there was a next time, he’d warn Santiago about holding his breath.
“Never touch anything unless I say it’s okay,” Ross added.
“How long do you think we have?” Santiago looked madly in all directions. “We can’t leave empty-handed. The king will think you did it on purpose.”
Ross pretended to survey the area before zeroing in on the fallen solar panel he’d spotted fifteen minutes ago, half-hidden in the undergrowth. “There’s a solar panel. Quick, let’s strap it to your back.”
Santiago ran to unearth it, looking satisfied.
Ross hated to give Voske anything, but Santiago was undoubtedly right that leaving empty-handed would raise suspicion. At least solar panels, while rare and valuable, couldn’t be used to kill anyone.
But though Ross had managed to cut this trip short without giving Voske any weapons, he didn’t feel as if he’d won. He’d been so sure he’d be heading back to Las Anclas today, but now escape felt further away than ever.
Chapter Thirty-One. Las Anclas.
Kerry
Kerry walked into her secret party, manacle chains clinking musically. Though the location left something to be desired—it was held in a barn to hide it from the adults who would undoubtedly have forbidden it—she hadn’t been so pleased since she’d come to Las Anclas. Mia had instantly agreed to go to the party with her. Nearly everyone here was a potential ally, or they wouldn’t have come. That blowhard Tommy Horst and his annoying followers were noticeably absent.
She smiled at everybody, greeting the ones she knew and introducing herself to the ones she didn’t, ending with, “How are you, Jennie?”
“Hey, Mia. Kerry. I have to get going.” Jennie set down the last of the cupcakes she’d been arranging, slipped through the crowd without meeting anyone’s eyes, and headed for the door. Mia stared wistfully after her.
“When the party’s barely even started?” Sujata asked. But the door had already shut behind her, and clearly no one wanted to talk about the strange breakdown Jennie had had on the Ranger training ground.
The people who appear strongest are often c
oncealing a secret weakness, Kerry thought. Father’s advice was sound, as always. Though it would be hard to exploit Jennie’s secret weakness when the girl vanished every time she saw Kerry.
“I’m so glad you got a chance to meet everybody, Kerry.” Becky gave her a sweet smile—a real one, too. “It’s too bad that as soon as we get to know you, you’ll be going home again.”
Kerry smiled back, but it took an effort. Becky’s innocent words were an inescapable reminder that she was living on borrowed time. And no one knows it but me.
“I know this will sound weird.” Kerry lifted her arms and rattled her chains. “But I like Las Anclas.”
Everybody laughed.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be quite sad to leave.” Felicité’s smile was also sweet, but as fake as her hair color.
Kerry couldn’t resist saying, “Maybe someday I’ll be back.”
Felicité’s smile didn’t change, but Kerry was certain that the girl had caught the double meaning. She turned to talk to Henry, whom Kerry had been surprised to see at the party. She’d thought he was part of Tommy’s Norm crowd. Then she saw him take Felicité’s hand. Ah-ha. Felicité had come to spy on Kerry, and Henry, her boyfriend, had accompanied her.
Those two were useless.
Kerry poured out fruit punch and counted to herself. She now knew the names of everybody at the party, and she was sure she’d charmed at least two-thirds of them. But were they the right two-thirds?
Her walks around town with Mia had taught her that she’d need the cooperation of more people than just Mia to escape Las Anclas. After all the time she’d spent working on Brisa and Becky, she’d regretfully realized that they couldn’t help her even if they were willing. She needed to befriend people with power in the community.
It was too bad that Felicité was clearly armored against her. She’d had more luck with Felicité’s pretty golden rat, who wandered as freely as the gophers in Gold Point. Wu Zetian was always willing to come up and be petted if Kerry chirped to her. Unfortunately, though Kerry had tried the same commands she’d heard Felicité use, Wu Zetian was clearly trained to only obey Felicité.
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