“What’ll happen to all those people?” Kerry asked, once they were inside.
Mia set the honey jars on her table. “What do you mean?”
“The ones who talked back to Preston. What’s he going to do to them?”
“Nothing.”
“I mean, the ones who called him stupid? The ones who threatened to vote him out?”
“Nothing,” Mia repeated. “They can say whatever they like. If you want to hear more, go over to Jack’s saloon. Don’t they blabber on about politics in Gold Point?”
Kerry was amazed that the townspeople could get away with that. It was so . . . so reckless! How could you control people who felt free to blurt out anything they thought? But she was also aware of her jealousy at the freedom that these idiot Las Anclas citizens took for granted.
That jealousy was dangerously disloyal.
“No, they don’t.” As if Father stood in the next room, Kerry said loudly, “Father can hear everything. If anyone were to speak like that of him, even if they were hiding in a basement in the middle of the night, he would hear. And he’d have their head on a pole. Loyalty is very important to him.”
“That’s horrible.” Mia spoke with a sober sincerity that Kerry didn’t know how to answer. “I hate to say this about somebody else’s home, but I’m so glad I don’t live there.”
Kerry wanted to defend Gold Point, but she knew it would turn into an ugly argument. She had to charm Mia, not alienate her. She kept silent.
That night, when Mia escorted Kerry to her cell, she stopped at the door with the air of someone determined to say something.
Here it is, Kerry thought. The lecture on how horrible Gold Point is.
But Mia’s words were unexpected. “I’m sorry, Kerry. About what Mr. Horst and those other people said. Not everybody thinks it.”
“I know.”
“The battle was terrible. But it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even there, were you?”
“I wasn’t. My sister was. She died at your wall.”
“I’m sorry about that, too.” Mia sounded like she meant it.
Kerry grimaced as Mia left. Why did she say that about Deirdre? She hadn’t meant to. She had to get a better grip on herself. Father would be disappointed at how she’d let her emotions rule her tongue. She shouldn’t say a single word that wasn’t to a pre-planned purpose.
*
Kerry jolted awake at the clang of the bell, staring into the darkness of the jail; a cage of bright moths silhouetted the deputy who had been snoozing in his chair. He shot to his feet, rifle in hand, and hit the lights.
Sheriff Crow burst out of her door barefoot, her loose hair swinging as she buckled on her pistol.
The deputy sniffed, then yelled, “Fire!”
“Might be a diversion,” Sheriff Crow said to the deputy. “Stay here.”
Kerry grabbed the bars of her cell, hoping the sheriff was right. This could be her rescue!
She heard the sound of running feet outside her cell. Someone shouted, “Behind the schoolhouse! The woods are on fire.”
The sheriff ran out. Kerry heard her shout, “I want guards all around the jail! You. Cover this door. You, too. Anyone with a weapon, follow me!”
More running feet. Then, close by, the night erupted into an uproar of yells, clashing weapons, gunshots, and crackles of lightning. Bankar’s shrill, gloating laugh rose above the commotion.
Kerry pressed her face against the bars, gripping a sword. She never thought she’d be so delighted to hear Bankar’s voice. If Bankar was here, Santiago must be, too! It was his team.
Someone wailed, “I can’t see!”
That’s Charles’s touch, Kerry thought, grinning fiercely.
Bankar’s laugh rose up again, then cut off abruptly.
More gunshots and shouts crescendoed in a clash of metal. Then silence, except for the ringing of the bell. Sharp voices rose, but Kerry couldn’t distinguish individual words.
“Everybody, quiet!” That was the sheriff.
Kerry listened frantically, hoping it was just a pause in the fighting, but the only voice was the sheriff’s. “You, fetch Dr. Lee. You, go report to the Defense Chief. This might not be the only attack team. You three, stay here and keep guarding the jail.”
“I can’t see,” a woman exclaimed.
“I can’t either,” said a man, an edge of panic in his voice. “I’m blind!”
The sheriff spoke. “Calm down. Dr. Lee is on his way. Let me take a look.”
Kerry flexed her hands and her swords vanished. The attack had failed. The only question was, was the team dead, or had they escaped? Where was Santiago?
The jail door opened. Sheriff Crow came to Kerry’s cell, stopping out of weapons range. Her pajamas were spattered with blood. Santiago’s? Kerry held her breath, fighting for control of her heartbeat.
The sheriff didn’t speak. Waiting for Kerry to let something slip? Kerry ought to wait, too, but she had to know. Anyway, the rescue attempt was hardly a secret.
“Are they all dead?” Kerry demanded.
“I don’t know,” Sheriff Crow replied. “How many are on a team?”
“Depends,” Kerry said, trying to match the woman’s cool tone. “How many were here?”
“Eight.”
Without meaning to, Kerry’s voice rose in a shout. “Are they all dead?”
It was never easy to read Sheriff Crow’s expressions, but Kerry felt a shift in the atmosphere. Kerry’s emotions had given her away. And the sheriff knew it.
“Let’s make a deal.” Sheriff Crow held out her hand in the ‘deal’ sign. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know about what happened to that team, if you’ll tell me something about their Change powers.”
Kerry knew she shouldn’t make any deals, or at least any deals that she intended to fulfill. But she couldn’t help herself. She held out her hand, palm up. “Deal.”
She was surprised when Sheriff Crow laid her warm palm across Kerry’s. For all the sheriff knew, Kerry could have held a handful of invisible razor blades. But before Kerry could debate the merits of taking the opportunity to hurt her, the sheriff took her hand away.
“Two people got blinded,” Sheriff Crow said. “Is it permanent?”
Kerry shook her head. “It wears off in five or six days. There’s a guy my age with short black hair, probably using a staff. What happened to him?”
Sheriff Crow’s brown eye widened in what looked like genuine surprise. “He wasn’t there. There was a girl about your age with lightning powers. Everyone else was my age or older.”
Kerry turned away, relief flooding through her.
The sheriff looked down at her blood-stained hands, and spoke as if to herself. “They wouldn’t surrender. I gave them the chance. They chose to fight to the death. Why did they do that?”
Kerry hesitated. The deal had only covered the team’s Change powers. But the sheriff had been honest with her. “They were afraid to go back and tell Father that they’d failed.”
“I see.” Sheriff Crow walked out.
Kerry sank down on the cot. Santiago’s team had been killed, but he was alive. Somebody else had taken his place.
Then it hit her: that could be because he was already dead.
Chapter Thirty-Six. Las Anclas.
Mia
Mr. Preston gave Mia a dismissive look. “Is that it?”
Mia nodded. “You’ve got all my reports, right there. I wrote everything down, just as you ordered.”
“None of it has furnished us anything of the least importance.” Mr. Preston dropped Mia’s reports and faced the other members of the council. “Those of you who were in favor of keeping the prisoner alive to extract information from her can see that was pointless. Not only does holding her make us look weak, it makes Las Anclas a magnet for attacks. We lost two people and had five wounded. Unless a miracle occurs and Voske decides to make the hostage exchange, we should kill the prisoner sooner rather than later.”
/> Judge Lopez interlaced her bony brown fingers. “Let’s take the long view on this. The Gold Point empire isn’t going to go away. But neither is Voske going to live forever. Kerry is his heir. By Mia’s account, if she’s treated with respect, she responds with respect.”
Dad spoke up. “I agree. The girl has been eating at my home. She talks readily, though we can’t expect her to reveal her father’s secrets. Still, I believe we could win her over, given time.”
Judge Lopez went on. “If we were to let her go, she will someday be the ruler of Gold Point. And she will remember that Las Anclas extended a gesture of good faith.”
Mr. Appel shook his head and scowled. “Voske will have taken over Las Anclas long before the girl can inherit anything.”
“Voske’s going to come after us anyway,” Dad replied. “But Kerry didn’t attack us. She’s neither a combatant nor a criminal. Killing her would be murder.”
“This is war,” Mr. Preston retorted. “Civilian rules don’t apply.”
“We do have rules of war,” said Judge Lopez. “For instance, unlike Voske, we don’t hold people’s families hostage. Until now.”
Mr. Preston waved a dismissive hand. “The only way to answer Voske is in terms he understands.”
Sheriff Crow turned her yellow snake eye on Mr. Preston. “I think this is personal. I think you’re so angry with Voske that you’d kill his teenage daughter just to get back at him.”
Mr. Preston banged his fist on the table. But before he could start yelling, the mayor stood up. “Council members, we are taking a break. We will hold the vote in fifteen minutes.”
Mia waited until the mayor followed Mr. Preston to the far end of the room, then whispered to Dad, “Should I leave?”
Dad looked tired and unhappy. “Better not, Mia. The council might have further questions for you.”
Once the council was done voting, Mia would ask if she could take Kerry out of her cell again. There was no reason why she needed to be locked up all day. She hadn’t tried to escape.
Mia had been worried at the start of the meeting, but now that she’d heard all the arguments, she relaxed. Dad, Judge Lopez, Sheriff Crow, and the mayor would vote against killing Kerry, and that made a majority. At worst, she’d be stuck as a prisoner in Las Anclas.
One thing was for sure, Mia liked Kerry a whole lot better than she liked Tommy Horst or Henry Callahan. Or even Felicité.
The mayor returned with Mr. Preston. He looked pleased. She looked upset. Had he been yelling at her? Quietly yelling.
“Council members, let us hold a vote,” said Mayor Wolfe. “All in favor of executing Kerry Voske in the event that her father refuses to hold a hostage exchange, raise your hands.”
Mia glared at Mr. Preston as he held up his hand, followed by Judge Vardam and Mr. Appel. Then, to Mia’s shock, the mayor slowly raised her hand. So that was what Mr. Preston had been doing—he’d pressured her into changing her vote.
Felicité calmly bent over her scribe book to record the vote. How could she not care about her parents voting to kill a girl her own age?
Mia’s stomach knotted. “This is wrong. I’ve been spending all day with Kerry, for ten days. She’s not a bad person. She saved me from getting stung by bees!”
“She saved you from getting stung by bees,” Felicité repeated. Once Felicité said it, Mia realized how ridiculous she had sounded.
“A swarm!” Mia added hastily. “It really was dangerous. People end up in the infirmary for that. Anyway, my point is, she protected me, and she didn’t have to. You can’t just kill her.”
“The vote’s been held,” Mr. Preston said. “There’s nothing more to say. Thank you for your service, Mia. You’re released from guard duty.”
Mia shook her head so fast that her glasses nearly flew off. “I don’t want to be released. Kerry talks to me. She might still give me enough valuable information that you wouldn’t want to kill her. Anyway, Mr. Vilas isn’t back yet. You won’t kill—um, do anything to her before then, so can I at least get her back out of her cell and keep her talking?”
Sheriff Crow gave Mia an approving look. “Yes, you may. But Mia, don’t let even a hint slip of our decision. If she knows she has nothing to lose, she could turn on you.”
Mia wouldn’t have told Kerry for the world. How horrible, to know that you were going to be killed and there was nothing you could do about it. “I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven. Gold Point.
Ross
Voske smiled when the guards brought in the new solar panel. Ross and Santiago had uncovered two more of them, and carried out the best of the pair.
“Excellent,” Voske said. “Success is always rewarded. If you find me weapons, I’ll give you each one of the royal horses.”
“Thank you, sir!” Santiago said with what sounded like genuine delight. With a chuckle, he added, “Whatever color I get, I’ve got a name ready. I’ve dreamed of those horses since I was a little boy.”
But Ross was sickened at the thought of owning a living creature that could be used against him. He still avoided the corral where Rusty was kept.
Voske gave Santiago an indulgent, fatherly look. “For now, Santiago, go to the garrison smith. Have her forge you a dagger of her very best work. Tell her I said it should be fit for a prince.”
Santiago beamed. “Thank you, sir!”
Voske turned to Ross. “And what reward would you like?”
A dagger to kill you with, Ross thought. “I don’t want anything.”
“I could give you the book you admired when you visited the shops on Opportunity Day.”
Ross’s stomach clenched at the memory of how he’d been forced to participate in ruining Luis’s life.
Voske went on, apparently oblivious to his reaction. “Or if you’d prefer something more active, you could participate in the war game the day after tomorrow.”
A war game would have people running in all directions. He might get a chance to escape. He might see more of Voske’s territory, and maybe spot a weakness he could exploit later. At the very least, he’d delay his next expedition for a few days.
“The war game,” said Ross.
*
The game was held on a hot, windy morning with thunderheads crowning the distant line of mountains. Ross had been given army fatigues like Santiago’s, loose and comfortable. But he wore his own old boots rather than the new ones that had appeared in his closet, cut exactly to his size.
Santiago looked grim as they walked out, and Ross wondered if he was missing Kerry. Would a princess ever participate in war games with common soldiers? From what he’d seen of her, Kerry might.
Ross’s thoughts of escape evaporated when he saw several hundred soldiers lined up at the north gate.
“Companies rotate into this kind of training every month,” said Santiago. “This is North Company One against East Four. The palace guard has their own training.”
Ross did some hasty calculations. Four companies per compass point equalled eight hundred times four, plus the palace guard. Voske had an army of nearly four thousand soldiers.
He remembered Mia proudly telling him the total population of Las Anclas—barely a thousand people, including newborn babies. Voske could return to Las Anclas with an army three times the size of his first one and crush the town’s defenses like Ross could step on a bug, while still leaving plenty of soldiers behind to guard the rest of his empire.
Ross felt crushed himself. He would never escape Gold Point. Even if he did, Voske could follow him to Las Anclas with an army, and kill him along with everyone he cared about.
Santiago beckoned Ross toward the soldiers. They all wore red or green sashes. “Red defends. Green attacks.”
Ross forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. If he allowed himself to believe that everything was hopeless, he’d never notice if a chance came up to escape. And then Voske would have won. Ross wasn’t going to help Voske by sliding into despair.
�
��We’re with the scouts,” said Santiago.
“Oh, your squad.” That cheered Ross up. Under other circumstances, he’d have liked Charles and Greta. And he could ignore the annoying Bankar.
Santiago didn’t reply, which wasn’t like him. Finally, he said, “They’re on a mission. We’ll be with Scout Team Five, West. My cousin Jorge is on it.”
The scouts welcomed Ross with the forced enthusiasm that he’d come to expect, though it never got any less uncomfortable to experience.
A horn signal sounded. Everyone marched out the gates, continuing for half a mile until they came to a sturdy wall. The gates were open, allowing Ross to catch a glimpse of an entire fake wooden town inside. In Las Anclas, only the wealthiest families had wooden houses. It even had a practice field big enough to make the Ranger training grounds look like a schoolyard.
The scouts were motioned together by their leader, a blonde woman whose cat eyes reminded Ross of Ms. Lowenstein.
“Today’s objective is a covert infiltration.” She squatted down to draw with a stick in the dirt. “Our squad will skirt the hill to take out the perimeter guards, then sneak down when squads six and up attack the gate, to draw the enemy off. We’ll come around the other side. Get over the wall here.” She made an X on the wall she’d sketched. “At that time, Scout Team Two goes over there. Once we breach, it’s a race to see who secures the three targets first.” She tapped three little squares inside the big circle. “Got it? Let’s go!”
Ross ran with the rest. He’d expected tension, and dreaded questions about Las Anclas. What he hadn’t expected was to have fun.
Alternating belly-crawling and leap-frog runs, the scouts penetrated the red army’s outer perimeter almost as soon as it was established. Then they had to take the hill, from which they could spy inside the walls.
Ross wriggled through the golden grasses and weeds, blowing away tiny glowing insects that kept trying to fly up his nose. A yellow blob vaguely resembling a tumbleweed dissolved at his approach, and the rabbit that had cast the illusion stamped and bolted.
He popped up to sight Santiago and the rest of the scouts. There were enough shrubs and scrubby trees to mask the ascent of the scouts until they could hear the crunch of the sentries as they made their rounds. The leader held up two fingers, pointed at Ross and Santiago, then aimed them at a pair of guards coming around a boulder.
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