By now everyone in the room was agape save for the Slaugh who’d been there.
“We followed it,” Hugo went on. “It stayed on a course to the middle of the ocean between here and Larlaith. Once there, it lowered metal arms and chains with hooks into the water. We stayed far back watching it, waiting. For many hours it lowered chains into the heart of the ocean. The mechamen aboard the vessel worked constantly to lengthen the chains. As best we could tell, they were trying to reach the bottom. At long last it pulled up one of the chains and there was something wrapped in the end of it.
“What was it?” shouted a Fay in the crowd.
“A tree branch,” Hugo said. “As soon as it pulled up the branch, the mechaman ship dove into the water. It made a giant wave, but it was only a ripple compared to what came later. The crew of our ship managed to keep us afloat so we stayed nearby to see what would happen.
“Hours later, after nightfall, the sea began to bubble. We saw the ship rising out of the water. It pulled something up with it: a dead tree. It was black with branches and roots coated in layers of sea-bottom silt. The ocean did not want to let go of it. The machine struggled to pull the tree free. When at last the roots broke the water’s surface, the whole ocean trembled. It made the sea buckle in every direction. That is what caused the wave. We were carried along by it all the way here. We have no way of knowing where the mechaman ship might go next or what its purpose with the tree is.”
He finished. At first nobody spoke. The silence was stifling as everyone except for me tried to make sense of the strange tale.
I knew about the tree at the bottom of the ocean. It was one of the few useful things I’d learned in my priestess training. I knew now why the tidal wave and I were connected. My family’s ancient past and my present had just collided and all of Faylinn was caught in the backlash.
Maybe Hugo didn’t know I was there or maybe he was still ignoring me, but he never glanced in my direction. If he had, he’d have seen a stricken girl clutching the hilt of her shortsword.
I squeezed the hilt so hard that the skin over my knuckles felt like it might tear. My fingers sought past the weapon to the flute that lay hidden inside. At my fingertips was a piece of a tree sealed away ages ago.
A tree resurrected by a demon’s machine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The air felt so heavy that it made Chloe’s hair stick to the back of her neck. She’d never been anywhere so steamy. Even though it was spring in New Orleans just like in her own world, it felt more like summer. A haze hung over the hot pavement and insects buzzed in the air, especially by the wide river that cut a swath through the city. Giant barges bigger than any boats she had ever seen chugged against the muddy currents.
She sat on a bench near the river watching the ships. A few blocks behind her lay the French Quarter where the scents of food and spirits poured out of windows under wrought-iron balconies. There were street performers and musicians on every corner. An old man was playing a trumpet just down the walkway from her.
Even with the giant ships and the cars whizzing by on great, arched bridges, the city felt more like home than anywhere else in the human world she’d been. It had the vivacity of Ivywild’s own market square.
Violet sat quietly next to her, examining a map of Tulane University. It was nearby, but they did not know yet how to get to Tobin Leboux’s apartment. Their mother had wheeled herself down to a crowd of people waiting to board a paddlewheel boat for a dinner cruise. Chloe could see her chatting with a couple of men. Othella seemed perfectly at ease. She’d braided her hair and wrapped it around her head so that the tips of her ears were hidden. She passed for a human easily, but she was much more beautiful than most human women. It was a great advantage whenever she needed directions or advice.
“How de do, Misses?” said the old man with the trumpet. He tipped his hat to Chloe and Violet. “Can I play you gals a tune?”
He had a thick accent. Chloe smiled politely but she wasn’t sure what to do.
Violet nudged her. “Give him some money,” she whispered.
Chloe reached into her pocket and pulled out one of the wadded green papers. The man offered his hat. She dropped it inside.
“Now what you gals wanna hear?” the old man asked, flashing a nearly toothless smile.
“Do you know Gigue of the Highland Tuatha?” Chloe asked. It was her father’s favorite song. Normally it was played on artisan bagpipes made only in Port Zephyr, but she supposed it could be done on a trumpet as well.
The man shook his head. “Don’t know that.”
Chloe shrugged. “Anything is fine.”
The man played a lively tune for them and then went on his way. The paddlewheel boat had arrived for its passengers. Othella waved goodbye to the men she’d been speaking with and then rolled her wheelchair back to the bench where Chloe and Violet were waiting.
“What did you find out?” Chloe asked.
“Most of the students live in apartments near the campus,” Othella said. “This way.”
The trip to New Orleans had been difficult. The bus was crowded and it smelled of feet. Chloe had sat next to a loud, middle-aged woman most of the way who insisted on showing pictures of her cats. The only way Chloe had kept her sanity was by fantasizing about all the things she was going to do when she got home. Most of the fantasies involved torturing the duke. She tied him to mountaintops and let carrion birds peck out his eyes. She set him ablaze with fires that would burn him for all eternity but never kill him. She fed him to the dragons that were rumored to still exist in the Ruvanian Mountains. Then she started fantasizing about feeding the cat lady to the dragons as well. She knew that it was not a good thing for her or her fellow passenger, so she tried to think nicer thoughts.
She missed her friends. Now that she’d been away for so long she realized how much she’d come to depend on others. She missed her maids and all the Gnome servants who’d taken care of her ever since she was a small child. She missed Commander Larue and his haughty Master Casters. She missed Lord Finbarr and Garland. She even missed Bazzlejet.
Of all the people at Ivywild, she missed Emma the most. Good old gutsy, passionate Emma. She was the only person who made Chloe feel like she could do anything she set her mind to. Until Emma came along, Chloe simply thought she was entitled to whatever she wanted. She’d since learned that the only things worth having were the things you had to fight for.
They came to a tree-shaded avenue with a row of buildings that all looked exactly the same in the front. Violet, who had been pushing Othella’s wheelchair, stopped in her tracks and stared in disappointment at the apartments.
“How will we know which one?”
Chloe spotted a girl entering one of the buildings. She let out a shrill whistle and shouted, “Hey, you there!”
The girl paused and stared in surprise. “Yes?” she asked.
Chloe approached the girl. “Do you know where we might find Mr. Tobin Leboux?”
The girl relaxed a little, but she seemed confused by Chloe’s appearance. She kept staring at her purple hair and at her impossibly green eyes. “Um, you aren’t with the police, are you?”
“Certainly not,” Chloe said. “However, it is important that we speak to Mr. Leboux immediately.” She tried to think of a way to make it sound more important. Then she remembered a phrase she’d heard on the vision box. “It’s a matter of national security.”
The student smirked. “National security, huh? What, did you see him on TV and want his number or something?”
“His number?” Chloe asked, befuddled.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever. He’s probably studying in the library. Mid-terms are next week.”
“Where is the library?” Chloe asked.
The girl pointed to a block of older buildings made of red brick. “Over there.”
Chloe gave the girl a begrudging nod of approval. “Thank you, kind citizen.”
Tobin Leboux sat dozing in an overstuff
ed chair surrounded by books and papers. Chloe spotted him from across the room. There was something that stood out about Fay descendants among the humans. It was like looking at a clear mirror image of somebody next to a rippling reflection in a stream. To Chloe, Tobin looked more in focus than everyone else.
Chloe, Othella and Violet had already drawn suspicious stares from the woman and at the library’s front desk. Trying to be as quiet and nonchalant as possible, Chloe strode over to the sleeping young man and tapped his shoulder.
Tobin stirred. A fat spiral notebook slipped off his lap and fell to the floor. “Wha—huh? Who are you?”
“Shhh,” Chloe said, placing a finger to her lips. “We are sorry to bother you, but we may have news about your mother.”
Wide awake now, Tobin sat up and stared at them. Though he was in his twenties he looked younger. He had smooth, dark skin, but his eyes were a lighter color with flecks of greenish gold.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked as his gaze settled on Othella.
“No,” Othella said. “Smart boy. Did your mother ever speak of home?”
“Not very often. Who are you?”
“My name is Othella de Lolanthe. These are my daughters, Chloe and Violet. I knew your mother a long time ago, back when she was called Kiros Rubedo.”
Tobin stiffened. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “Nobody here knows about that,”
“Then it proves that we are who we say we are,” Chloe said.
He nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I was afraid of this.” He leaned forward with his knees on his elbows and rested his forehead against his hands. “That’s why they can’t find any clues, right? That’s why nobody has seen a trace of her. It’s because she’s not here, is she?”
“We’re not sure,” Othella said quietly. “We were hoping you’d take us to her apartment so we could examine it for ourselves.”
Tobin glanced up at her suspiciously. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t know,” Violet said. “Wouldn’t you rather give us a chance, though? We may be the only ones who can help. Like you said, nobody here has found anything.”
“Please,” Chloe added in her sweetest voice.
Tobin sighed. “What do I have to lose, right? I mean, one woman in a wheelchair and two skinny girls…” He stood up and began collecting his books from the floor. He was quite tall. Chloe noticed that he was thin, too. He looked like he hadn’t been eating well. She wondered if his mother used to cook for him.
“How far is it to her apartment?” Chloe asked while Tobin shouldered his backpack.
“Not far. I’m not really supposed to go there, but I have a spare key.”
They followed him out into the cooling evening air. Even the sound of nearby traffic couldn’t drown out the hum of insects in the trees. The humidity quickly sapped Chloe’s energy again, making her drag her feet. Tobin seemed used to it. He took long strides with his heavy backpack as though it weighed nothing at all.
Chloe tried hard to match his pace. Violet was almost jogging as she pushed Othella.
“Have you lived here all your life?” Chloe asked.
“No,” Tobin said. “Just the last twelve years. When I was little we moved around a lot. Dad is in the military.”
Chloe didn’t entirely grasp what this meant. “Oh. Where is your dad now?”
“Hawaii, I think. We don’t talk much. Him and Mom divorced a long time ago. She was tired of moving from place to place and he was tired of her…weirdness.”
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said in total sincerity. “So your dad doesn’t know anything about her disappearance, either?”
“He probably doesn’t even know that she’s missing,” Tobin said.
They came to the apartment building that Chloe recognized from the vision box. Yellow tape was still stretched over the front door.
“Wait,” Tobin said, pausing on the doorstep. He looked down at the three of them. “Before we go in, I need to know for sure. You’re not just pulling my leg, right?”
Chloe wasn’t familiar with the expression. It sounded funny. “Pulling your leg?”
Tobin’s face was stony serious. “Yeah. This had better not be a prank. I’ve dealt with a lot of scumbags from the media. My mom had a lot of critics. She was…eccentric. People in her field gave her a lot of flak for studies that she published. They’ll look for any reason to make her look bad. So I’m going to ask one more time: Are you really here to help her?”
Taken aback, Chloe wasn’t sure what to say. She was used to being direct, but she seldom saw the trait in other people. Tobin was more upfront than anyone else she’d met.
Tobin stood with the key in his hand, waiting for a response.
Then Chloe thought of something. She glanced around to make sure nobody nearby was watching. She reached for her hat.
“Chloe, no!” Violet squeaked.
Chloe didn’t listen. Gaining Tobin’s trust was more important. She pulled off her hat, letting her purple curls tumble to her shoulders. She felt cool, fresh air on the pointed tips of her ears. It was such a nice sensation that she couldn’t resist wiggling them a bit.
Tobin’s gold-flecked eyes widened in astonishment. “Just like Mom’s. Nobody else ever saw her without her head wrap. They thought she was just representing her culture.”
“But she was actually hiding her real culture,” Chloe said as she put her much-hated hat back on. “Now do you believe us?”
Without another word, Tobin turned the key in the lock.
Except for a layer of dust, the apartment looked like it was still in use, just waiting for its owner to come back from a trip to the store. Open assignment books lay on the kitchen table. Unsorted mail was waiting by the coat rack. The place didn’t even smell abandoned. Exotic potpourri was sitting in decorative bowls. There was no evidence to suggest something was awry until they entered the den.
“They think it happened in here,” Tobin said, indicating an overturned chair and scorched marks on the old hardwood floors.
Violet got to her knees and peered closely at the blackened wood. “Looks like the work of a fledgling Master Caster, wouldn’t you say, Chloe?”
As a fledgling Master Caster herself, Chloe knew a fire spell when she saw it. She placed herself in the position of the attacker. It looked like a weak effort. Whoever had cast the spell was trying to intimidate, not kill.
“They wanted her alive,” Othella said, voicing Chloe’s thought.
“What was your mother’s gift?” Chloe asked.
Tobin was thrown by the question. He looked terribly uncomfortable at being in the room where his mother was abducted. “What do you mean?”
“Her magic.”
He shook his head. “She never did any of that stuff around me. I didn’t even know if it was for real or not. She wrote all these theories about magic existing here, though—lots of stuff about physics and physiology. Her peers laughed at her for it.”
Othella rubbed her source crystal thoughtfully between her fingers. “If I recall correctly, she was a Guardian.”
Chloe took a sharp breath. “You mean like Emma?”
“Yes,” Othella said. “Much like the Wrens, the Rubedo family had something to protect. They spawned many Guardians.”
“What are you talking about?” Tobin asked. “She didn’t have anything to protect. When she came here from…wherever, she didn’t have anything.”
“Perhaps not,” Othella said. “But did she ever mention a tablet?”
“No,” Tobin said.
Chloe halfway paid attention to the exchange. She’d just noticed something odd about the scorch marks. She had seen the imprint of Emma’s barrier spells before. They left behind a bubble shape against the marks of whatever spell they were trying to hold back. The scorch marks on the apartment floor were unbroken, signifying that the spell had completed its trajectory.
“That’s weird,” she said. “Kiros didn’t try to defend herself wi
th a barrier. Barriers leave marks, too, and I don’t see any.”
“You’re right,” Violet said. “I don’t either. I wonder…”
They both looked up at the same time. On the ceiling were more scorch marks, but this time there was a telltale rounded imprint interrupting them.
“She tried to fly away!” Chloe said.
“WHAT?” Tobin said. “My mom can’t fly! There’s a lot I don’t know about her, but I’d know if she had wings, okay?”
Chloe smiled and made her own vaporous purple wings appear.
Violet watched her nervously. “Cut that out, Chloe, somebody might see the glow through the window and get suspicious.”
Ignoring her, Chloe floated up to the ceiling. Tobin stared, wide-eyed.
“She was right here,” Chloe said, flying to a high corner where the scorch marks stopped. She looked down at the room. It was a good vantage point but there was no way out. Kiros had been cornered.
“Are you sure your mother never mentioned a tablet?” Othella asked Tobin again. “It is the only reason I can think of why somebody would come after her. It’s been in her family for ages.”
“I don’t know!” Tobin insisted, clenching his fists. “She never talked about the days before I was born.”
“But did you ever overhear her talking about strange things?” Chloe asked.
“Oh, sure, all the time—just nothing about a tablet. What is this tablet, anyways?”
“The Rubedo Tablet,” Othella said. She rolled herself close to Tobin. Her wheelchair left tracks on the dusty floor. She leaned forward and drew a rectangular shape the size of a serving tray in the dust. “It’s about this size, and made of jade. It contains all the rules of alchemy. Anyone who possesses it is said to have a power at their hands greater even than magic.”
“Just a set of rules?” Tobin said, sounding unimpressed. “Why doesn’t somebody just memorize them?”
Othella gave him a patient smile. “Alchemy is as much about symbols as it is about materials. The written symbols are what give it its power. There are subtleties within them and ways to combine them that can only be seen using the tablet.”
The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) Page 33
