Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities) (36 page)

“WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU
and Keefe?”

Sophie nearly dropped her satchel as she turned to face a scowling Dex. The glass pyramid felt especially crowded that morning during orientation—though maybe that had something to do with the heavy glare Dex was directing at her.

“Nothing. Why?”

“I heard he went over to your house after school yesterday.”

“I heard that too,” Marella said as she squeezed in beside them. “Dedra told me after she heard it from Maruca.”

“Yeah, and I heard that from Huxley who heard it from Audric,” Dex added.

“Okay—who
are
those people? I’ve never heard of most of them.”

“So he didn’t come over, then?” Marella asked.

“Well . . . okay, he did
—
but it wasn’t a big deal. He was just helping me with something.” She couldn’t believe they were even talking about this—especially when there were so many bigger, more important problems to deal with.

Dex was clearly sulking about it, though, so she made sure to be his partner during channeling practice in PE, and that helped him get over it. Or it did until Keefe hooked his arm through hers on the way to lunch.

“Better get moving, Foster. You and I have a date with detention—remember?”

Sophie groaned. She’d forgotten all about that.

She mouthed
Sorry
to Dex as Keefe led her toward the glass pyramid, up to the cramped floor just below the apex. Sophie hadn’t been sent there since the time she stole the midterm information from Lady Galvin—a mistake she’d paid for with almost a week of torture—and she’d hoped to never return. Especially since the punishment changed every day, depending on the Mentor in charge.

She really hoped there’d be no screeching sirens or humiliating dancing this time.

“Who’s monitoring us today?” Sophie asked Keefe when she noticed the Mentor’s desk was empty.

“No idea, but let’s hope it’s not Sir Donwell. On Monday he
made us listen to him read classic dwarven poetry. I’m pretty sure I’ll be traumatized by anything that rhymes from now on.”

The door opened and Sophie made a silent wish for it to be anyone but Bronte. But it was almost worse.

“Oh good, the queen of the alicorns is here,” Stina grumbled as she stalked across the room. “I’m surprised you’re not covered in glittery poop, Sophie. I hear that’s your favorite perfume these days.”

“She still smells better than you,” Keefe called back, before leaning in and whispering, “Dude—you
have
to give me some of this magical substance. I can think of
several
uses. I bet Dame Alina—”

The door opened again and Keefe fell silent as the monitoring Mentor strode into the room.

“Wow—I thought I knew all the Mentors,” Keefe mumbled as he stared at the dark-haired woman in the gleaming silver cape.

Sophie slouched, hoping to hide from her horrible linguistics Mentor. But Lady Cadence noticed her right away.

“Miss Foster. How unencouraging it is to see my alleged
star
prodigy in detention the first week of school.” Her words felt like they’d been sharpened into knives. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given what I’ve read about you in your file.”

Stina snickered, but Keefe held up his hand like he wanted her to give him a high five. Sophie ignored them both, staring
at the grains of wood in her desk, wishing she could crawl underneath it.

“Anyway, I’m incredibly behind on my research, thanks to my being moved to teach here, so I’ve volunteered to cover as many available detentions as possible. Those of you who are repeat offenders will get to spend lots of time with me—though you may decide after today that whatever mischief you like to cause is simply not worth the price.”

She snapped her fingers, and piles of round brown vegetables appeared in the center of everyone’s desks. They looked a bit like potatoes, but they most definitely were
not
potatoes. If millions of skunks sprayed a mountain of poop, Sophie would’ve chosen to roll around in
that
. Even living around Silveny breath and Iggy-farts, Sophie had never smelled anything as vile.

“These are curdleroots,” Lady Cadence explained. “The ogres use them to make an incredibly toxic poison that I’m trying to make an antidote for. I need them all peeled and juiced before lunch is over, so I suggest you get to work. And in case you’re wondering, yes, the smell will wear off. In a few days.”

She smiled as they all whined.

Sophie reached for a curdleroot, trying not to gag when she discovered it was squishy like a rotten tomato.

And moist.

The thick peel reminded her of an orange, and she tore it with her fingers, removing it in long, slimy strips.

“So that’s your Mentor, huh?” Keefe asked, coughing as he peeled his own curdleroot. “Congratulations, I think you found someone worse than Lady Galvin.”

“You should try inflicting with Councillor Bronte.”

“Yeah, Dame Alina was clearly out to get you when she gave you that schedule.”

More like the Council.

“So, did you make any progress on our little project after I left?”

“Actually, I did.” Sophie glanced over her shoulder to where Stina was glaring at them. “I’ll tell you later.”

“I never said you were allowed to talk, Miss Foster,” Lady Cadence snapped from her desk, where she had surrounded herself with tiny candles, probably to block the smell.

“You never said we weren’t allowed to either,” Keefe reminded her.

“That’s just the kind of sass to earn yourself another detention,” Lady Cadence retorted. “Another for you, too, Sophie. And if you think today’s punishment is unpleasant, just
wait
until tomorrow’s.”

“WOW, THAT IS
QUITE
AN
aroma,” Tiergan said, coughing as Sophie sank into the chair across from him.

The extra chair that had been added for Fitz was noticeably empty, and Sophie tried not to look at it as she said, “Yeah, Lady Cadence is evil.”

“I don’t know if ‘evil’ is the right word.”

“Have you met her?”

“A few times—but it was a while ago. She’s been living with the ogres for decades. In fact, I was quite surprised when the Council brought her back to Mentor you.”

“So was she,” Sophie grumbled. “Do you know why?”

“I have a few suspicions. But I wanted to talk to you about something else.” He sighed, fidgeting with the ends of his cape. “I know you’ve heard Bronte’s
theory.
”

She slouched in her chair, wishing she could shrink away from this conversation. “You mean the one about me being defective?”

“I believe ‘malfunctioning’ was the word he used but . . . yes. Are you okay?”

She kicked the back of her shoe. “I don’t know, do
you
think I’m malfunctioning?”

He was quiet for a long time, twisting the edge of his cape so tightly she was surprised it didn’t rip. “I . . . I think sometimes we forget that you—like all of us—have limitations. Just because the Black Swan tweaked your genes to refine your abilities doesn’t mean you’re
perfect
.”

“But what if I was supposed to be?”

“Then the Black Swan had impossible expectations.”

“Maybe,” she mumbled. “How much do you know about them?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“Do you realize that you never
actually
answer any of my questions?”

A hint of a smile peeked from the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. The only thing I know for sure is that
they
control what they want you to know. I have no doubt that someday the Black Swan will give you the answers you seek. But it will be when
they
decide the time is right. Not a second sooner.”

Sophie scowled. She was really getting tired of sitting back and waiting on
them.
Especially since they’d done nothing since they gave her that charm. No notes. No clues.

Unless Prentice had tried to give her one.

“Does, ‘Follow the pretty bird across the sky’ mean anything to you?”

His brow creased as he nodded. “I believe it’s part of an old dwarven poem. It’s been ages since I’ve heard it, but I think it goes:

“Sing swan, Spring swan,

Then let’s fly.

Follow the pretty bird across the sky.

Call Swan, Fall Swan,

Then let’s rest.

Tucked in the branches of your quiet nest.”

“It’s about
swans
?”

“Yes,” he said carefully, like he knew where her mind was
already headed, “but it’s an
old
dwarven poem. Centuries and centuries. Long before the Black Swan was even a whiff of an idea. Not to mention very few of us pay any attention to dwarven poems. My mother happened to have an affinity for them, which is the only reason I know it.”

That explained why Alden hadn’t heard of it. “But maybe they’ve decided to use it for something. Some sort of code word or password or . . . I don’t know.”

“I suppose anything is possible, Sophie. But it’s like holding a key but no lock. If you don’t know where to use it, the key is meaningless.”

She sighed, hating that he was right.

But she was right too—she could feel it. It
couldn’t
be a coincidence that the poem was about swans. Which meant Prentice told her that line for a reason. And if she could figure out what it was, maybe it would lead her to the Black Swan—or at least to another clue.

MOST OF THE PRODIGIES KEPT
a wide berth from Sophie—and the other stinky detention survivors—during study hall. But Dex still sat in the chair next to her.

“I deal with funky-smelling stuff all the time at the store.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He grinned. But his smile faded when Keefe plopped into a chair across the table and whispered, “So, Foster, what time am I coming over—and I’m
hoping
it’ll be after you shower.”

She fanned his stink away. “Uh, I hope you’re planning on showering too.”

“He’s coming over
again
?” Dex whined, turning several heads.

“We’re working on something,” Sophie whispered.

“Can I help?”

“Miss Foster, Mr. Dizznee, and Mr. Sencen—one more peep and I’m giving all three of you detention,” Sir Rosings called.

Keefe rolled his eyes. “Someone is
begging
for a desk full of sparkly poop.”

“That’s it—one day of detention each.”

Sophie glared at Keefe as she took out her notebook. She started to review her history notes, but Dex pulled the thin book away and wrote something in the margin. Then he scratched it out and wrote something else. Scratched that out and wrote something else, staring at it for several seconds before he finally nudged it back, not looking at her as he did.

I never see you anymore
.

Sophie felt her lips stretch into a smile.

I miss you too
, she wrote, and slid the notebook back to him, just as her Imparter beeped in her pocket. She pulled it out, surprised to find a brief message in glowing orange letters.

Found what you were looking for. Meet me at my office. —CT

Sophie’s heart sputtered into overdrive.

“I take it that’s good news,” Keefe whispered, raising one eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you later—I have to do an errand after school.”

“Can I come?”

“Me too!” Dex added, but Sophie shook her head at both of them.

This was something she wanted to do alone.

Keefe teased her about being mysterious as Dex grumbled something about “worse than Wonderboy,” but Sophie was too excited to care.

The pieces were
finally
coming together.

S
OPHIE SQUINTED AS THE SHIMMERING
city of Eternalia glittered into view. In the distance the jeweled buildings glinted in the sunshine, and members of the nobility trolled the streets in all their finery. But Sophie inhaled a blast of Fade Fuel and turned the other way, crossing the glassy river lined with Pures—special trees with fan-shaped leaves that filtered the air—and heading toward the row of twelve identical crystal castles with twisted, swirling spires.

The offices of the Councillors.

The low heels she’d worn cut into the sides of her toes, but Sophie was so relieved to be in clothes that didn’t smell like curdleroots that she didn’t mind dressing noble. She’d
had to shower three times to get the stench out of her hair.

“You haven’t explained what we’re doing here,” Sandor said, his hand poised over his weapon as he scanned the path ahead.

“Technically, you never said I had to tell you everything. Just that I would let you come.”

Sandor scowled, but didn’t argue.

She made her way to the farthest castle on the end, and the front door swung open before they reached the top step.

Councillor Terik stepped onto the shimmering landing, his face stretched with a wide smile as he said, “Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Foster. And I forgot about the bodyguard.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all. Though I must admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve done an assignment with so little information upfront.”

“Oh—I, um—”

“It’s okay, Sophie. I understand that you don’t know me well enough to open up to me like you did Alden—yet. I’m happy to earn that trust, for now.” He held his pathfinder up to the sunlight and offered Sophie his hand. “You ready?”

She willed her palms not to be clammy as Sandor took her other hand and she asked, “Where are we going?”

Councillor Terik smiled. “You’ll see.”

“MYSTERIUM?” SOPHIE ASKED AS THEY
reappeared on the familiar narrow streets lined with identical buildings.

“What better place to keep our storage?”

Councillor Terik’s tone implied no insult, but the snobby words still made Sophie cringe.

At least she wasn’t the
only
one getting stares and whispers as they made their way down the street—though the reaction seemed to be verging on panic this time.