by Walsh, Sara
“I hope there won’t be a fight,” said Sol. “Get in, get the Solenetta, get out.”
“Which we can’t do if the place is packed with Runners.”
“I doubt there will be more than a few men in there. It’s not Malone’s style. There’s no safety in numbers in Orion. Here you lie low, keep your head down, otherwise you’re attracting thieves. And this place is full of thieves.”
“Like us?”
“We’re not stealing, Mia. We’re taking back what’s yours.”
“And if we don’t get it?”
He paused. “We’ll get it back.”
But then what? We still had to get Jay. And what about the other boys? We’d have to make it to the Ridge and across to Crownsville without the whole of Bordertown noticing. As soon as the Solenetta disappeared, Malone would know it was us. If the Ridge had been guarded before, it’d be impenetrable by the time we reached Bordertown.
I saw the Solenetta in my hand, picturing myself using it to reopen the Barrier. And then Crownsville. How could I explain where we’d been? What would I do with the Solenetta? Whatever Sol had said to Vermillion, there wasn’t a chance I was keeping that thing. More and more, I thought the safest plan was to use grains to cross the Barrier and leave the Solenetta here where it belonged. Using it on the Ridge was skywriting that it had returned to Crownsville. The Suzerain’s demons would come for it and the race would begin again.
Thinking of the Solenetta, my mind flashed back to something Vermillion had said. “Sol, what did Vermillion mean about me and Jay being Balian? If my father’s a Freeman, then she must have meant my mom, Jay’s mom too. But why would she say that? Unless she knows something I don’t.”
His gaze roved the square, but he wasn’t patrolling as he’d been before; he was avoiding me. “Vermillion’s rarefied Simbia,” he said.
“I know. Delane told me.”
“Simbians can smell a family from a mile away. They can sense how a person’s roots have evolved from the original five families. She sensed Balian in you.”
“You told me Balia was where the Solenetta was made.”
“It was,” said Sol. “A long time ago.”
“But she said Jay was Balian too.”
He had that look again, as if he was sizing me up. Right away, I guessed that he knew something more.
“Sol, it’s where he went, isn’t it?” I said. “My dad. After he dumped me. He went to Balia.”
Sol slowly shook his head. “Mia—”
“Sol, you can tell me. You won’t hurt my feelings. He dumped me. End of story. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with that fact.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t like that.”
“And I’m sure it was.” I nudged his arm, wanting him to know that he didn’t have to tiptoe around me. “Look, Sol. As great a guy as you say he is, my dad bailed. You have your father, even if he is in the West.”
Sol leaned forward, his hands covering his mouth as he thought. Though the street bustled around us, the space between us fell silent.
“Mia,” he started.
I smiled, warily. “Bad news always follows whenever you say my name like that.”
“It’s not bad,” he insisted, but he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. All I could see was his strong profile. “It’s something I should have mentioned. I . . .”
He stopped, frowned, and gestured across the square.
The door to Malone’s had opened and a short, stocky man—definitely a Runner, judging by his sweatshirt and jeans—exited the house. Sol sprang to his feet. “Now’s our chance.”
Conversation forgotten, I asked, “We’re gonna follow?”
“If we find out where he’s headed, we might learn something useful,” he replied. A mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. “And besides, I can’t bring you to Orion and not show you a good time.”
* * *
“This is a good time,” I announced, as we ducked into yet another doorway. “Is this what you do with all the girls?”
We’d stalked Malone’s guy down Orion’s main street. No one less than a full-blown mind reader could have guessed we were trailing him. The afternoon light had faded and the evening traders had taken over the town. We kept back, using the crowds for cover, all the time inching closer to Malone’s man.
“He’s heading for that side street,” said Sol.
We were jogging by the time we turned off the road, entering into a dim alley of ramshackle stalls and storefronts, bursting with shoppers. Within seconds, I’d lost sight of our quarry.
“Now what?” I kept close to Sol, worried we’d get separated in the throng.
Sol, head and shoulders above most of the crowd, gave the alley a quick scan. “He’s entered that store.”
Tucked behind Sol’s arm, I dodged the elbows of passersby and trusted he could navigate us through. Nearby, a pencil-thin man on a podium danced to the beat of a drum. His limbs rolled like dough as he posed in time to the music, creating a series of contorted shapes, which were perhaps even creepier than the eye above Malone’s door.
“Here,” said Sol, and he forged a path to a store opposite Elastic Man’s stage. He pretended to watch the performance. “Can you see him?”
I peered around and there, at a counter inside the store, I caught sight of Malone’s man. “Yep,” I said.
“Then I need you to do something.” He rifled through his pocket and then dropped a few coins into my hand. “Go inside and browse. Listen in. If we’re lucky, he’ll let something slip.”
I clutched the coins as I took another look inside. I’d said I wanted to help, but . . . “Can’t you do it?”
“I shouldn’t go in there,” he said.
“You mean they know you?”
“Maybe.”
Maybe? What kind of an answer was that? I shot him a scowl. “All right,” I said, skeptically. “But stay where I can see you. I’ll never find my way back if we get separated.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. He pointed to a stall to the right of the contortionist’s podium. “Good luck.”
I went in before I could chicken out. A bell tinkled above the door, announcing my arrival. So much for stealth. Inside, it was gloomy and cramped and smelled of a stomach-churning mix of dust, wood, and syrup. Ceiling-high shelves with jars and bottles of every color caught the light from the orbs in a rusted chandelier.
Head down, I wandered to a rack close to Malone’s man and feigned interest in a bottle of Sour Soc, whatever that was. I listened.
“Two crates,” said Malone’s man. “And you’d better throw in some bottles of Duddon’s poison.”
“You’re expecting Malone?” asked the proprietor, a five-foot, ninety-pound weasel-like man with thin, greasy hair. “Can’t remember the last time I saw Duddon in Orion.”
“He’s on his way,” said the man. “He’ll be here for the parade.”
“Then you’ll need more than two crates. How many is he bringing with him?”
“Just a few. Two crates will be fine.”
I stole a peek in time to catch Malone’s man counting on his fingers. He got to seven before he stopped. “Better make that three crates,” he said. “To be delivered at two.”
“And someone will be there to collect? The parade starts at two and I don’t want my man turning up to an empty house again.”
“There’ll be a couple of us there all day,” retorted Malone’s man. “Don’t be late.”
I kept my head down as he left the store, analyzing the Sour Soc like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. Inside, I cheered. We’d discovered that Malone was coming to town.
“Is that all you want?”
Startled, I realized the storekeeper had turned his attention to me.
“Erm.”
I flashed a smile, dumped the coins on the counter and prayed there’d be enough. The storekeeper scowled but, to my relief, took a couple of the coins before pushing the rest across the glass.
“Thanks,” I said, turning tail as fast as I could.
“Hey!”
I spun back, panicked, certain he somehow saw my guilt.
“You forgot your bottle.”
Silly me. I grabbed the Sour Soc from his hand and then barreled through the door onto the alley.
* * *
“You said seven,” said Sol for the fifth time.
“I said he counted to seven. And that there would be at least two people in there all day.”
We’d left the alley and were wandering Orion’s streets. Excitement for tomorrow’s parade was palpable, especially among the kids, a group of whom (including one with a green beard) darted past with wooden whistles and streamers, parents nowhere in sight.
“And the delivery’s at two,” said Sol.
“Yeah. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“If you’re thinking we could intercept that delivery, then yes.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “Oh, and I got you a bottle of Sour Soc.”
I handed it over.
“Haven’t seen this stuff in years,” he said as he flipped the bottle cap and took a sniff. He pulled away. “That’s nasty.”
“That isn’t what you’re supposed to say when someone offers you a gift.”
“You want it?” he asked, offering it to me.
I took a sniff before conceding his point. “It smells like feet.”
“Not yours, I hope.”
I thought of my old sneakers festering on Rusty’s backseat. “Course not.”
Sol held on to the bottle, and as we passed an old woman shaking a basket for change, he handed it to her. “For you,” he said.
The woman looked as if her birthday and Christmas had come all at once. The power of Sour Soc. It never failed to please.
“So Malone’s coming to town,” said Sol, when we moved on. “I knew the little worm couldn’t resist.”
He was in full stride mode. It was kind of hard to keep up. “I’m guessing you two have a history.”
“He’s a clawcurling snake.”
“You don’t have any claws.” I hesitated. “Do you?”
“Only on the full moon.” He must have caught the look on my face. “Joke.”
“You never can tell in these parts.”
Though I’d yet to fully catch my bearings, I was pretty sure we were headed away from Vermillion’s, not that I minded keeping Sol to myself. He pointed out landmarks as we walked. The boarded-up building that had once housed the Magician’s Guild. Maslian Rock, a giant statue of the Freeman who’d discovered the caves where the people of Welkin’s Valley had hidden after the siege in Narlow. And the Evening Song Fountain with its breathtaking cascade of multicolored waters. But it wasn’t until we reached the Velanhall that we stopped.
The palace was larger than anything I’d ever seen. The row of cream-colored mansions adorned with flags and banners that faced the palace were far grander than the homes on Orion’s back streets. This was obviously where Orion’s powerful resided.
We crossed to the Velanhall’s steps, great marble monstrosities that led to the terraces above. I looked up, up, up to the towers, which rose like beacons against the deepening sunset. I shivered.
“They don’t hold people in those towers, Mia,” said Sol.
“Are you a mind reader?”
“Lucky guess.”
I traced the steps that spiraled the nearest tower’s outer wall and figured there had to be at least five hundred. A huge star was engraved in the stone near the top.
“It’s the Morningstar,” said Sol, catching the direction of my gaze. “It symbolizes hope. As the sun rises, it strikes the tower and the star shines for a few moments. It marks a fresh start, another chance on a new day.”
I stared at the Morningstar and wondered if Jay could see it too. “I wish he knew I was here,” I said. “That he’s not forgotten.”
“Kids are tough, Mia. If Jay’s anything like you, he’ll be fine.”
“Jay’s more resilient than I am.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Sol replied, softly.
I turned my back on the Velanhall and sank onto the bottom step. “Ever since Jay came to Crownsville, I think he’s been dreaming of this place. He remembers his mother, you know. He said they took her.”
“Not having parents must have been hard for both of you,” said Sol.
“It was harder for Jay,” I replied. “He’d play games with swords and magic. I just thought it was something that boys did. But I wonder if he remembered all along that he was from here.”
“Mia, he couldn’t have known much.”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I think this place has always been inside him.”
I watched sentinels patrolling, remembering the horrific chase through the woods surrounding Bordertown.
“Sol, about the plan,” I said.
He sat at my side, his legs close to mine, his presence once again a comfort. “What about it?”
I felt the Velanhall looming behind me, its huge towers symbols of its impenetrable power, with Jay captive somewhere inside.
“I think we should get Jay first,” I said.
Sol tilted his head as he listened—he was listening, I could see it all over his face. “Mia, getting into this place won’t be easy.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Once we have the Solenetta, you’re going to want to get it out of Orion. No one’s gonna stay to help Jay.” I put my hand on his knee. “Sol, please don’t get the Solenetta back and then bail on me.”
My words clearly shocked him, and I felt bad for thinking he might do that after everything we’d be through.
“Why would you even say that?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “It’s like the Solenetta is all anybody cares about! I can’t leave without him. I won’t.”
Sol took my hands before I could pull away, his grip strong. “Mia,” he said, his expression serious, his eyes filled with assurance. “I promised. And I’ll promise again. We’ll get Jay out.”
“You swear. Like on a blood rite?”
“I’d swear on anything,” he said, squeezing my hands. I could almost feel the power of his promise passing from his hands into mine. “I’d cut out one of Delane’s hearts and swear on that if it would make you trust me.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “He wouldn’t be too happy about that.”
“He can get by with one. Mia, you can’t ever believe that I’d leave your brother in the hands of that animal.”
“No,” I said, and I meant it. “But I could believe that you’d try and get me and the Solenetta out, then worry about Jay later.”
From the sudden change in his look, it was clear I was closer to the mark. “It’s dangerous for you here, Mia.”
“And more so for Jay. He’s all alone, Sol. He doesn’t have you looking out for him.”
“Mia, believe me,” he said. “He does.”
He released my hands. The switch had flicked. All the control, all the restrain was back. He was wound so tight I could almost feel him pulsating beside me.
“Mia, there’s something I have to tell you.”
I braced myself. With this kind of buildup, the news was sure to be huge. Or bad. Or both. There were no ribbons and rainbows when Sol was struck with this mood.
“About Jay?” My voice was shaky.
“About me.”
He looked uncertain. He was nervous. My heart raced.
“I should have told you before,” he said. “I meant to. I wanted to, but . . .”
He frowned, struggling for the right words.
“What is it?” I asked. “Sol?”
Still he fought against whatever it was he had to say. I reached for his arm, desperate to urge him on. “Sol?”
Nothing.
“Solandun.”
He turned. The light from the sunset caught in his eyes. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“I guess,” I replied. “I never really thought about it.”
“It’s just a name, right?”
“Of course.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said, almost to himself.
I scowled. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”
I looked away, hoping a little personal space might help him open up. It didn’t. Hating the silence, I was ready to speak, but stopped as my gaze caught a figure sprinting across the square.
“Is that Delane?” I asked. “It’s Delane.”
Sol saw him too, for he got to his feet and protectively reached for my hand, the moment forgotten. “This doesn’t look good.”
Delane skidded to a stop in front of us. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, panting. “Vermillion said you were at the hideout.”
“We took a detour,” said Sol. “What’s happened?”
Delane glanced at Sol, then licked his lips and looked at me, clearly uneasy. “It’s Bromasta,” he said. “He’s here.”
TWENTY-TWO
I’d once sworn that when I finally saw my father, I’d slap his stupid face. But I couldn’t. He didn’t have a stupid face. He had a handsome face, worn, but handsome. He was dark in the hair and eyes and, at the moment, in need of a shower and a shave.
He sat in Vermillion’s kitchen in a long black coat, much like Old Man Crowley’s. Flakes of dry, crusty mud covered the sleeves. When he got to his feet, his presence loomed, tall and broad.
I’d always wondered how we might meet, but I’d never dreamed it would be in Brakaland. And my father had never looked like this in those dreams, more like the guy who’d sold me the bottle of Sour Soc. The scenes I’d imagined usually involved me burning with rage, demanding the apology that, deep down, I believed Jay and I were owed, and then showing him the door as he had done to us. That was how it was supposed to be. I never once imagined that it would feel this surreal.
The house was empty, except for us and Sol, who hung back in the doorway, arms folded. He nodded when I looked back to him, reminding me that I probably needed to speak.
“We came through the valley,” I said, hesitantly. “I saw the house.”
It wasn’t much of a start. What was I supposed to do? Throw myself into his arms and squeal, I love you, Dad!
