“Here,” Bella said, pulling a dark, gray scarf from her apron pocket. “Tie this around your head and keep it on until you get out of town. Master Therapass wanted me to remind you not to talk to anyone, and to stay out of sight as much as possible.”
As they left the orchard, the path wound through a maze of tall hedges and ended before a rusted metal gate. Bella produced a key and unlocked the gate as Kyja tied the scarf beneath her chin.
“If you run into trouble, send that skyte of yours with a message and I’ll—” Bella’s words died in her mouth as she and Kyja rounded the corner. Not more than twenty yards away, where the path met the road, two dozen of the royal guards marched in formation. In the center of the formation was the High Lord himself, riding on a tall black stallion side-by-side with a man Kyja had never seen.
Before Bella could push Kyja behind her thick body, the stranger looked in their direction, and Kyja felt sure his dark eyes marked her.
Chapter 13
Problem Solver
The bird has flown the coop.” Mr. Linstrope grinned darkly. “Such a naughty little bird.”
Marcus squirmed and tried to twist out of the man’s grasp, but Linstrope’s fingers dug into the skin of his arm like a steel trap, twisting until it felt like the bone was going to break.
“Don’t scream, or I’ll kill you here and now,” the man hissed.
“What do you want?” Marcus asked, trying not to cry from the pain.
“I thought that was quite clear.” Linstrope eased the pressure on Marcus’s arm a fraction and leaned down until they were face to face. “I want you.”
Marcus searched the dark schoolyard for anyone who might be able to see what was happening. At this point, even Chet and his friends would be a welcome relief.
Linstrope must have had the same idea, because he too glanced quickly about. With no effort, he swung Marcus into the air and dropped him into the wheelchair he’d hidden in the shadows. “Personally, I wouldn’t mind disposing of those four little trolls from the school,” he said, pushing Marcus and the wheelchair across the sandy grass toward a small grove of trees several hundred yards away. “But I think more privacy is called for.”
“Who are you?” Marcus asked as they bumped and rattled across the field.
Linstrope laughed again. It was a dangerous sound—papery and dry like a scorpion stalking its prey along an empty river bed. “I suppose formal introductions are called for. Though, I rather enjoyed being Mr. Linstrope. I’m fascinated by the concept of lawyers—people whose entire reason for being is to twist the rules to suit their own purposes. Quite a noble profession, don’t you think? It’s a pity they don’t exist where I come from.”
He pointed a long finger to the ground, and Marcus jerked backward as the grass near his feet burst into flame. A moment later, he realized the flames spelled out the same words he’d seen earlier on the man’s business card.
His face highlighted by the moon’s silvery light, Linstrope raised an eyebrow as one side of his mouth lifted in an amused grin. “Watch closely now, little bird. I’d hate to have you blink and miss it.”
Pursing his lips, the man blew toward the words. Like magic, the burning letters reading Ben Linstrope rearranged themselves into a new name: Bonesplinter. Below them, Child Welfare Attorney and State of Arizona faded away, replaced by Problem Solver and State of No Return. Then the entire thing flared brightly before disappearing into ashes.
Marcus looked up and realized the man’s face had changed as well. His mouth was bigger, the nose flatter and wider. His eyes were farther apart, and his cheekbones had disappeared entirely, giving him a sunk-in look. And the scar from Marcus’s dream had reappeared—a jagged line running up the side of his face.
“Quite a clever little trick, don’t you think?” Linstrope said. “I imagine I could turn a pretty penny here, doing birthday parties and magic shows. Although it’s not nearly as useful as your tricks, is it, little bird?”
Marcus’s stomach went cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.” Bonesplinter tightened his grip, and Marcus felt as if spikes were being driven into the muscles of his arm. “Your disappearing act is quite impressive—especially considering your current . . . circumstances. But not nearly as impressive as what you might have learned to do over time. It’s a shame you’ll never have that time.”
They had reached the edge of the field. Looking over his shoulder, Marcus thought he could see figures walking around the back of the school. Before he could be sure, Bonesplinter pushed him into the grove of trees.
“What are you going to do to me?” Marcus asked through gritted teeth.
Bonesplinter stopped deep in the shadows. “I’d like to spend a little time getting to know you,” he said. “I’d like to study you like a fine watch and see what makes you tick.”
In the darkness the man’s face was still changing. His eyes looked even farther apart and his nose flattened until it was almost gone. His whole head appeared to compress and shift, while his mouth grew huge. His voice was changing too, growing deeper and raspier.
“Unfortunately,” Bonesplinter whispered, “it’s not up to me. It won’t be long before the others come looking for you, and my orders are quite clear. I’m afraid, little bird, that you won’t be returning to your nest.”
As Bonesplinter leaned forward, his head emerged from the shadows into a shaft of moonlight. His yellow eyes gleamed hungrily. Teeth like sharpened daggers filled his mouth. But worst of all, Bonesplinter’s skin had turned black and scaly.
Marcus screamed. He was looking into the face of a huge, deadly snake. Mouth wide open, it darted toward him.
Chapter 14
Taking a Chance
Bella, what a surprise. I expected you would be in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.”
Cowering behind Bella’s wide backside, Kyja recognized the voice of High Lord Dinslith. But who was the man with him? Kyja had never seen him before, which was not so unusual by itself. Visitors came from all parts of the world to consult with the wizards of Westland. Master Therapass had specifically warned her against speaking to any strangers, but surely he didn’t mean anyone accompanied by the High Lord.
“Breakfast is awaiting your return, High Lord. I’m on my way to fetch more chickens for lunch.” Bella’s voice sounded calm and worry-free, as if she were just out running a perfectly ordinary errand. But with her hands hidden behind her back she gave Kyja a hard push. “I know how you and the council like fresh poultry.”
What was Bella doing? Did she want Kyja to leave—by herself? What was safer than being near the High Lord and his personal guards?
“Your culinary expertise is renowned far and wide. I am truly as honored to sample your cooking as I am to meet with the council,” said a silky voice Kyja didn’t recognize. She felt sure it must belong to the High Lord’s visitor.
Bella chuckled. “You are too kind. I’d best get to those chickens then, or risk ruining my hard-won reputation.” She gave another shove backward. “I’m sure you men have things to attend to as well, so I won’t keep you any longer.”
“And who is your little friend?” the silky voice inquired.
This time Bella’s meaning was unmistakable as she practically knocked Kyja down with her strong hands. Kyja stepped backward, still blocked from view by Bella’s body.
“Friend?” Bella asked. Kyja turned and ducked around the hedges. The gate was locked, but she thought the bars were just wide enough to squeeze through.
“The girl. The one standing beside you just a moment ago.” Kyja could still hear the stranger’s voice—sounding slightly irritated—as she pushed her head between the bars. At first they seemed too tight, but with a little more effort she managed to make it through. Turning her shoulders, she climbed between the rusted bars to the other side of the gate.
“I didn’t see any girl. It must have been one of the . . .” Bella’s voice faded as Kyja raced pa
st the hedges and into the orchard. Did Bella really think the man with High Lord Dinslith was dangerous? That was crazy. What would a respected visitor of the council’s want with a girl who fed chickens and milked cows?
As Kyja ran through the orchard, the trees began to shake their branches in her direction, rattling their leaves and offering fresh fruit.
“Apples! Try my apples; they’re quite juicy.”
“Over here. Ripest fruit you’ve ever seen. I’d eat them myself if I could. Come and pick a few before the birds get them.”
“Call those shriveled little things apples?” said a third tree. It waved a gnarled branch at the other trees’ fruits, which were a little smaller than normal. “If you want rosy cheeks and white teeth, I’ve got just the thing for you.”
“Be quiet,” Kyja whispered, hoping their voices wouldn’t carry back to the High Lord’s entourage. If the stranger really was the one Master Therapass had warned her about, then he might have recognized her. And that meant she had to get out of town now. She checked the sky for Riph Raph, but the skyte was nowhere in sight.
At the edge of the trees, Kyja scaled a crumbling stone wall and stopped before another row of hedges. She’d come this way as a little girl, sneaking apples from the orchard. The hedges surrounding the orchard looked ordinary enough, but they were actually cursed to keep out trespassers. Anyone who tried to get past them suffered the embarrassment of having his or her head swell up and turn bright red, until they looked just like the apples they were trying to steal.
But because Kyja wasn’t affected by curses, her so-called friends recruited her to sneak inside and bring back fruit. That lasted right up until Mrs. Goodnuff found out what was going on. Kyja and the other apple thieves had been forced to spend a week weeding and raking the grounds to pay for their theft. Those had been the most expensive apples Kyja had ever eaten.
She’d never taken any since. But she still recalled the way out of the orchard. Lying on her belly, she wormed into the base of the hedges. Prickly branches tugged at her robe and caught at the bag of food she dragged behind her. At least there weren’t any thorns. Kyja was much bigger than the last time she’d come this way, and crawling through was more difficult than she remembered.
At last she pushed aside a branch of the waxy leaves and emerged into bright sunlight on the other side. Like the tower, the orchard was set up on a hill. Lying on her stomach with her head just protruding from the foliage, Kyja could see all the way to the Goodnuffs’ farm. The sun was now well into the sky, and all about Terra ne Staric the cobblestone streets were filling with horse-drawn carts and people going about their day’s business. Kyja couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. But then again, she didn’t know what she was looking for.
“Are you going to hide in those bushes forever? You look like a worm trying to decide if it will come out of the apple.”
Kyja jumped at the unexpected voice, a nearby branch sharply poking the back of her head.
“Riph Raph! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she grumped as she climbed out of the bushes and brushed herself off.
“Maybe you just weren’t being observant.” The skyte flapped up onto her shoulder and plucked a stray leaf from her hair.
“I was being as observant as I could. I just didn’t expect a nosy skyte to land next to my head,” Kyja said, straightening her scarf.
“Nosy!” Riph Raph huffed, and a ball of flame nearly singed Kyja’s eyebrow. “Then I suppose you don’t want to hear about what I saw flying all over the city while you were hiding under bushes.”
“I’m sorry.” Kyja ran a knuckle down the bumpy ridge of skin on the back of Riph Raph’s head. “I’m just worried. Did you see anything on your flight?”
Riph Raph made a noise that was half purr, half growl, and arched his back as Kyja petted him. “Nothing except the High Lord and his guards. I wonder where they were coming back from so early in the morning. I didn’t like the looks of the stranger with him. He had suspicious eyes.”
“That’s just your imagination. The High Lord would never consort with untrustworthy people,” Kyja said. But she was still glad the orchard and hedges were between her and the High Lord’s visitor. “What about the farm? Did you see anything there?”
Riph Raph gave a little sigh as Kyja stopped rubbing his back. He shook his head, making his floppy ears waggle. “Nothing except a bunch of dumb animals. The Goodnuffs are still eating breakfast. But I’d hurry if you’re going to get a horse. It won’t be long before Mr. Goodnuff heads out to the barn.”
“Right.” Kyja trotted down the hill, with Riph Raph flying just above and behind her. At the base of the hill, she cut across a field and ducked through the back of the tannery. Wrinkling her nose as she passed large, round vats of lye and stacks of cured hides, she slipped quietly past the building and hurried up the alleyway.
It felt silly to be sneaking around like a thief in the town she’d known all her life. But at the same time, something did feel wrong. It was probably just her imagination at work. With nothing specific to be on the lookout for, she found herself seeing menacing shadows in every doorway and watchful eyes in every window.
Maybe it was because of the boy she’d seen in the aptura discerna. Thinking back on it, she couldn’t remember why she had been so sure the boy was in danger, but she was sure. And it seemed unthinkable that she could see his danger and not be able to do something. What was the point of seeing someone in need if you couldn’t help him?
Keeping her head tucked low to her chest and her scarf pulled far down on her forehead, she hurried past the rows of shops and turned toward the western gate. Convinced that someone would stop her before she could get out of the city, she hunched her shoulders as she passed through the gate. But the guards who lounged casually to either side of the entrance barely glanced in her direction.
Once through the gate, Kyja raced along the side of the dirt road, her feet kicking up tiny plumes of dust behind her. Half a mile down the road, she turned and cut through the Broomheads’ farm. Mrs. Broomhead, who was outside hanging clothing on the line, peered curiously in her direction, but Kyja didn’t stop to wave. The feeling of unease was growing stronger inside her. And along with it came a sense of urgency, of something dark coming.
At the edge of the Broomheads’ yard, Kyja vaulted the split-rail fence and raced through the rows of the Goodnuffs’ strawberries. She was sure there would be something waiting for her inside the barn. But only the cows and horses looked up from eating their oats and hay when she entered the dark interior.
“It’s about time you got here,” said Sassy.
“Sorry,” Kyja said, looking quickly around the shadowy building. “Has anyone other than the Goodnuffs been here since I left?”
Sassy rolled her big brown eyes, shook her head, and went back to eating her hay. Other than remembering jokes, farm animals weren’t known for having long memories. But as far as Kyja could see, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. Still, she hurried up to the loft, gathered her few belongings and added them to her food sack.
She considered leaving a note for the Goodnuffs, but what could she tell them that would make any sense? And if someone did come along looking for her, it might be better if they didn’t find a message. Instead, she climbed down the ladder and took a saddle and tack from the wall. Normally she chose Pepper when she went horseback riding, but today she needed speed. Chance, a retired war horse, was the oldest in the Goodnuffs’ stable, but he was also the biggest and fastest.
Kyja carried the saddle to Chance’s stall and leaned close to the big, gray-and-white stallion’s ear. “Listen carefully,” she whispered. “You and I are going on a trip. But I need you to be very quiet until we get outside of town. Do you understand?”
Chance studied her for a moment before nodding his big head.
“Good boy,” Kyja said, and lifted the heavy saddle onto his broad back.
She was just sliding the bit into Chance’s mouth when
Riph Raph flew into the barn. He landed on the edge of the stall with a flurry of his little leather wings, overcorrected, and nearly fell into the hay.
“Coming!” the skyte said, panting. “Fast.”
Kyja spun around, holding Chance’s reins in her hand. “What’s coming?” she asked, an icicle of fear forming inside her chest.
“Don’t know,” Riph Raph said, still trying to catch his breath. “Never seen . . . anything . . . like it before. But it’s coming fast. We need to leave now.”
“How do you know it’s coming here?” Kyja asked. She was trying to stay calm, but Riph Raph’s anxiety was contagious.
“Followed it.” The skyte waved its wings, nearly taking flight again. “Some kind of dust cloud making a beeline for the farm. No time to talk.” He flapped his wings so hard that he actually did take flight. “Come on!” he shouted so loudly the rest of the farm animals looked up to see what the commotion was.
Kyja pushed open the stall door with shaking fingers and put her foot in Chance’s stirrup. Lifting her leg over the food sack she’d tied on, she climbed into the saddle. Now Chance seemed to sense something as well. He shook his head, snorted and pranced backward in the stall.
“Come on,” Kyja said, urging the big horse forward with her heels. “Let’s go.”
Chance didn’t need any further persuasion. In three quick strides, he left the stall and raced out of the barn. Kyja started to ride toward the road, but Riph Raph flew in front of her, cutting her off. “Not that way,” he shouted. “Across the field, to the creek.”
Kyja glanced toward the road and her heart jumped up into her throat. Less than a mile away, something was raising huge plumes of dust in the road. Whatever was making the dust was too fast to be on foot, or even on horseback. In the few seconds she watched, the cloud closed a third of the distance to the Goodnuffs’ farm. And now Kyja thought she could actually feel the very ground shaking.
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