“He does,” Kisonan said quietly.
“He could control us all, if we let him carve us,” Mayka said to Si-Si and the birds. “We need to leave. Garit, you understand, don’t you? You can’t tell me you think the mark is right.”
“I . . . I . . .” He looked like a rabbit caught by the gaze of a hawk. “It was the best choice for his sculptures. He doesn’t mean harm. He wants what’s best, for everyone.”
“Best?” Si-Si squeaked. “Best? An obedience mark? We used to tell stories about such a mark at my estate late at night, to scare the new stone creatures.” She scurried to Mayka and hid behind her legs. “I was about to trust you to recarve me! I wanted to trust you!”
“I know, but . . .” Garit ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at the door to the private workroom. “There’s something you should see, and then maybe you’ll understand.” He spoke quietly and led the way across the workroom to a nondescript door tucked between two boulders. The door itself was wooden and shut with a single latch.
He lifted a lantern from a hook on the wall, and then opened the door and held a lantern inside so that amber light fell over the jumble of shadows. “This is the Scrap Room, where Master Siorn stores failed carvings.”
Risa flew in and then darted back out to cower behind Mayka. Si-Si peeked in and then slunk out. Gathering her courage, Mayka took the lantern from Garit and stepped inside.
What she saw was a graveyard of broken sculptures.
“If a sculpture doesn’t turn out the way he wanted, if it doesn’t behave the way it’s supposed to, it’s destroyed, and the fragments are kept here,” Garit said. “We then reuse the stone for other works.”
Mayka knelt next to one. It was half a face of a fox. Another was a chunk of an arm. All of this would have been fine, except for the next piece she found: it had marks on it, scratched out but still partially visible.
This stone creature had once been alive.
“How does he decide if a creature deserves to be destroyed?” Mayka asked. She was surprised that she was able to keep her voice steady.
“A lot of the scraps here are just from practice work. Inert stone. But this . . .” He picked up a stone chunk that was curved with feathers carved into it. “She was a whimsical creature, made for a commission. A family wanted a stone creature to keep their daughter company. Watch her during the day. Make her laugh. Tend to her needs, when necessary. But she didn’t turn out right, and the family rejected her. She lived here for a time. She . . . made me laugh. She would make the oddest observations and prattle on and on. I liked her. But he said she was broken.”
Mayka didn’t know what to say.
“I cried when he discarded her, and he told me it was foolish. But now that Master Siorn has invented his new mark . . . No one will ever need to be discarded. If he’d created it sooner, she would have been saved. How could I tell Master Siorn not to use the mark, when this is the alternative?”
She stared at the scraps. He wasn’t even making sense. There had to be a hundred other marks that Master Siorn could have used to help his friend. “Broken” wasn’t the same as “disobedient.” “An obedience mark wouldn’t have saved your friend. All it could have done is enabled Master Siorn to destroy your friend’s true self.”
“What . . . what do you mean?”
“He would have ordered her to change, right? And she would have had to obey. And the friend you knew would have been just as destroyed as she is now.”
He looked as shocked as if she’d slapped him. “But . . . but Ava would have been alive!”
“Ava wouldn’t have been Ava anymore.” That was the true horror of the obedience mark. If Master Siorn chose to, he could destroy a creature’s entire personality. His mark could override other marks, effectively giving him the power to rewrite all stories and making him the narrator and sole interpreter. Obey me, the mark said. Not yourself. “We should never have left the mountain. Risa, Si-Si, come on. We’re going.” Carrying Jacklo, she hurried out of the workroom and to the front door, which was still open. She stepped outside.
The otters popped up. “Playtime?”
She tried to remember what stones she’d stepped on earlier . . . Holding Jacklo tightly in her arms, she started forward. She was aware that Kisonan and Garit had followed her and were watching from the doorway. They hadn’t fetched Master Siorn, which was good—that meant, she thought, that they weren’t going to try to stop them.
Jacklo squawked. “No, I don’t want to leave!”
She held him tighter. “We can’t stay. Shhh, Jacklo.”
Flapping over them, Risa chirped at him. “Don’t be an idiot. You heard what Mayka said about that horrible mark. You saw the Scrap Room! Settle down. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You’re wrong about him! He’ll help us!” He writhed in Mayka’s arms, trying to escape. She loosened her grip, afraid he was going to injure himself. Splaying his wings, he burst out of her arms and darted back into the house. Once across the threshold, he crashed onto the floor, his wing drooping down.
Garit knelt to examine him as Mayka rushed back.
She dropped down on his other side, looking at the wing. His struggle to get airborne had torn it again, cracking the white cement. “Jacklo, why did you—” She stopped.
She saw it.
The new mark, the obedience mark.
He’d carved it into Jacklo.
“Oh no,” Mayka said.
“What is it?” Risa asked, hovering over them. “Did he hurt himself again? Jacklo, you should have let Mayka carry you. You knew you weren’t ready to fly. What were you thinking?”
“I can’t leave Master Siorn,” Jacklo said. “It wouldn’t be right. He wants to help us! He’s good and noble and wise! You’ve just misunderstood. If you talk to him, he’ll explain. Please, if we leave now, we’ll lose our best chance to save our friends.”
“He did this to you.” Mayka glared at Garit. “Did you know?”
“I didn’t!” Garit backed up. “Well, I mean, I’m not surprised. He’s added it to all the creatures in his household—”
“Jacklo isn’t in his household! He’s with us! He belongs on the mountain!” Where I belong! I never should have left! I should have listened to Nianna and come alone. This is my fault. “Jacklo, I’m sorry. We’ll fix this. I promise.”
“Master Siorn believed he was a stray,” Garit said weakly. “Making him part of our household was an honor. It grants him protection.”
“Well, now that he knows Jacklo’s not a stray, he’ll just have to remove the mark.” Standing, Mayka scooped Jacklo into her arms again. He shouldn’t have tried to launch himself into the air. The strain of takeoff had been too much. “Take us to him?”
Garit looked at Kisonan.
The griffin’s expression did not change. “Very well. I have not been ordered not to.”
On the short walk back to the workroom, Mayka had barely enough time to think of what to say. She was so angry that she felt as if she was vibrating. This stranger had carved his mark onto her friend! How dare he?
She stroked Jacklo as she cradled him. “It will be okay. We’ll make him fix you.”
Jacklo shivered. “I want to go with you, but I want to stay too. Can’t we all just stay here? You’re wrong about him. He saved me and healed me, and I want . . . I want—”
“Shhh, it’s all right.”
Kisonan led them to the workroom. “You must wait. I will see if he is willing to speak with you.” The griffin crossed to the massive door to the private back room. He spoke in a low voice to the door, and then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
They were left to wait.
“Master Siorn will explain,” Garit said. “The new mark is his invention, for the festival. No one has ever created a mark like this before, at least not outside of legends.”
“He never should have done it.”
Garit looked uncomfortable again. “He didn’t think the bird belonged
to anyone—”
“The bird doesn’t belong to anyone,” Mayka snapped. “Except himself!”
Emerging from his private workroom, Master Siorn removed his gloves and protective glasses and smiled at all of them. “Here now, what’s this fuss about? You should be letting your bird friend rest and heal. It’s too soon for him to be up and about, after a breakage that severe.”
Si-Si waddled up to Master Siorn. “Please tell us you didn’t create an obedience mark!”
He frowned at Garit. “You know the importance of se-crecy—”
“The girl can read!” Garit yelped. “She read it herself. Master . . . Tell them it will help. It’s supposed to keep stone creatures from hurting people. And that will keep stone creatures safe from us.”
Kisonan spoke. “It is a promise between flesh and stone, binding us together.” His voice was flat, and Mayka thought, He doesn’t believe it. She peered at him, wondering what he really thought of the mark, but his eagle face was unreadable.
“Precisely!” Master Siorn said happily.
“You aren’t wearing a mark,” Risa said to him.
Master Siorn chuckled. “Of course not. I can’t. Believe me, if there were a mark I could wear that would ensure the safety of all people, I’d carve it into my skin myself. But since there isn’t one—”
“Master Siorn, I’d like to ask you to please remove your mark from my friend Jacklo,” Mayka said as politely as she could. “I would like to also ask you to remove it from your other creatures as well. It’s not right.”
“It’s beyond right,” Master Siorn said, looking startled, as if she’d suggested something ridiculous. “It is necessary! It’s the solution that people and stone creatures have been looking for since the first stone creature walked among us: a way to have peace.”
“There’s already peace.”
He shook his head. “Sadly, that is not always true. For now, yes, we are in a time of peace. You have been in isolation, up on your mountain. Perhaps I should tell you the tale of the Stone War.”
Garit gasped. “Master—”
“This is important,” Master Siorn said. “She doesn’t understand. My mark will transform the world for the better. It will inoculate us against destruction and chaos.”
Mayka didn’t think there was any story that would change her mind. But she wanted to know what he meant. “Tell me.”
“Many years ago, the stonemasons were in a race, each to carve the most magnificent, monstrous creature they ever could. They made fabulous giants that stomped over forests, great dragons that seared the sky with their fire—”
Si-Si perked up at the mention of dragons.
“—and sea serpents that filled the sea. Giant worms that dug through the earth. Mighty stone trees that shaded half the valley.”
Mayka tried to imagine a world like this, filled with stone giants. She thought of the fallen giants that Jacklo had seen and the images in the mural. Was this a true story?
“But the stonemasons had given no thought beyond the majesty of their creations. They failed to respect the power of the creatures they were making. And so when the creatures turned on them, they were unprepared.”
Jacklo gasped. “Stone creatures wouldn’t do that!”
“They could, and they did. They crushed villages, destroyed fields, and wrecked harvests. Winter came, and people starved. They fled to caves in the mountains and lived in fear as the stone creatures hunted them down.”
She thought of the tale of the sky brothers. Father had told her that story, but not this one. Maybe because it doesn’t make sense. Why would stone creatures attack? In the song the musicians had played in the square, they sang of stone creatures who refused to fight—she’d rather believe that story.
Mayka opened her mouth to ask about this and what it had to do with Jacklo, but Master Siorn wasn’t done. “But one brave stonemason ventured out of the caves, carved his own giant creatures, and used them to defeat the monsters. Legend says he used an obedience mark. Legend also says his name was Master Kyn.”
“Father?” Mayka cried.
“He saved the valley. But after he achieved peace, he turned his back on our craft. He destroyed the very creatures who had helped him, and he erased the obedience mark so thoroughly that it was lost to history. And then he fled for the mountains, abandoning stone and flesh alike.” He sighed heavily. “Worse, the people of the valley turned against us as well. There were some who advocated outlawing stonemasons, or worse. But even with all their fear, people still covet our creatures—they want stone workers to plow their fields and carry their goods and guard their houses. So they tried instead to control us. They confined all stonemasons to the Stone Quarter and built a wall to contain us. Anyone with knowledge of the carving arts was forced to register and wear a badge at all times, and once a year, the stonemasons had to display all they had carved for the people to see and judge. To this day, this is why you see stone creatures who mimic flesh and blood animals, or doors and other household items. You don’t see the giants of old.”
“But why did the giants turn on the flesh people?” Mayka asked. “And how do you know Father used an obedience mark?” He’d never do that! Her father would never have stolen a creature’s freedom.
He shrugged. “Who knows? Something went wrong in the carving, and they went bad.”
“It must have been more than that,” Mayka said. “Did anyone ask them?”
“Ask? You don’t argue with monsters. You flee.” He held up one finger. “Unless . . . the monsters have bound their loyalty to you. Unless they bear a mark that makes it impossible for them to harm a human. Do you see?” He beamed at them, as if surely they’d agree with him now that he’d explained.
She folded her arms. “I don’t see what that has to do with Jacklo.” And she didn’t believe it. She thought of the mural she’d seen, with Father and the dragon. It seemed to support Siorn’s story . . . I refuse to believe it.
“At this year’s Stone Festival, I will prove that it is possible to create masterpieces again, because I have found a way to ensure they will not harm us: I’ve perfected the mark your father once used to save us all. I will prove that stonemasons should not be mistrusted. I’ll restore our reputations. The wall will finally be torn down, and there will be no one in the valley who will have any reason to fear us—or to fear stone.”
He seemed to believe every word he was saying. He was gesturing wildly, and his voice was soaring. “It will revolutionize what’s possible in stone. It will change things for everyone! We will be able to trust stone creatures with our very lives, and working together, flesh and stone, we will be able to accomplish miracles. Can’t you see it? The possibilities are extraordinary, for you as well as for us. The laws against what we can create, what stone creatures can be and do, will be repealed, and you will have freedom!”
“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Risa said.
Sticking her head out from behind Mayka’s legs, Si-Si nodded vigorously. “No stone creature wants to be controlled!”
“It’s not about control. It’s about safety! Yours and ours! Right now, stone creatures aren’t trusted. You know of the curfew, don’t you? If humans weren’t afraid of you, it would be lifted. Stone creatures would be free to go where and when they wished.”
“You’re afraid of us?” Mayka said. “But we’re just like you, in all the ways that matter. We think, we feel, we live!”
He shook his head. “Your father carved you with such innocence.”
She glared at him. “My father carved me to be me. You have no right to deny creatures control of their own stories! Everyone has a right to—”
“Not to kill! Not to harm! No one has that right! Because of me, the Stone War will never happen again. I’ve created peace that will spread to the entire valley!” He then sighed. “I’m saddened that you don’t see it my way.”
“I don’t,” Mayka said. “So if you’ll please remove your mark fr
om Jacklo, we will all be on our way.” She wanted to tell him to take back what he’d said about her father too. It had to be a lie. Father had believed in peace that came from family and love and trust, not from coercion and control and dominance. And so do I.
He made gentling motions with his hands. “I cannot spend any more time convincing you. The festival is coming, and I need to be ready. This is more important than one bird. This is about the future of all stonemasons. And the future of the valley. Garit, please tend to the bird’s wing.”
“Yes, Master,” Garit said, and reached to take Jacklo from Mayka.
“No!” Mayka cried. She clung tighter to him, and Jacklo wriggled and squirmed.
Risa swooped down. “Mayka, release him. He’ll hurt himself.” She glared at Jacklo. “Stop it, you idiot. She just cares about you.”
Jacklo strained with his unbroken wing toward Garit. Risa was right—if she held on, he’d hurt himself worse. Grudgingly, Mayka loosened her grip, and Garit lifted Jacklo out of her arms. She watched him carry her friend to a worktable on the opposite side of the room and lay him down beside a collection of chisels and hammers.
“You’ll understand after my demonstration,” Master Siorn said. “Watch how the people react. Once they understand that stone can be trusted, everything will change! I am going to make the world a safer place, a better place.” To the griffin, he said, “See that they don’t disturb me again.”
“Yes, master,” the griffin said.
Retreating into his private workroom, the stonemason shut the door behind him. Mayka heard it lock, and Kisonan positioned himself in front of it, guarding his master and whatever secrets he hid.
From the workbench, Jacklo whimpered.
Chapter
Sixteen
“You’re going to fix his wing, not add any more marks to him,” Mayka said to Garit. She didn’t phrase it as a question. She wouldn’t let him add anything else.
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