Flight of the King (20 page)

“There,” said Hal, pointing to the end of the barge where the steerage cabin sat. Three of the five guards were clustered in that space. “If we get them all to the front, maybe
we can get up the gangplank before—”

Bailey didn't let Hal finish; he stood up and hurled the first stunner toward the front of the barge. A blinding flash of light exploded in front of the steerage cabin, causing Bailey to
shield his eyes with the back of his hand. Hal grabbed Bailey's elbow and yanked him down so they were both crouching behind a crate. It was just in time—they could hear the guards
running past them along the pier to investigate.

“What were you saying?” Bailey asked Hal.

“That we need to run along the dock to the barge's shipment-loading end, but
all
the guards were supposed to be occupied!” Hal had peeked over the crate and pointed at
the one man who remained at his post, craning his neck to see what the commotion was instead of joining the others.

“Ants,” muttered Bailey. He held the last stunner in his hand. At the front of the barge, the other men were talking loudly with a sailor who'd been on board when the stunner
hit.

“Don't know what it was—I couldn't see a thing!” the sailor exclaimed.

Bailey readied himself to make another throw.

“As soon as I throw this, run as fast as you can to the cargo hold,” he said. “We need to be up that gangplank before any of the other guards make it off the front of the
barge, okay?”

Hal looked carefully at the distance between them and the gangplank.

“All right,” he said. The two boys crept behind the crates, closer to the other end of the barge, knowing that the longer Bailey waited to throw the last stunner meant more time for
the other guards to return to their posts. As they neared the final crate, Bailey rose and threw the stunner. It was just like Flicking a blob of paint at an opponent in Scavage—the stunner
whizzed through the air and hit the final guard on the shoulder. The sun had set completely by this time, and the burst of light was so intense that Bailey's eyes stung. He blinked hard and
saw stars, and when he reopened them he saw Hal make a run for it; Bailey raced behind him to the covered cargo hold. Together, they ducked under the thick canvas stretched over the back end of the
barge, and slid into the darkness among the boxes and crates underneath.

They lay flat behind a large wooden box, waiting to make sure no one had seen them. Hal turned onto his back, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

“It's a good thing I'm nearly blind already,” he whispered, “or those things would have done the job for me.”

As Bailey's eyes adjusted, he saw a dark shape atop the crate take form. It made no movement, and neither did Bailey. What seemed like entire minutes passed, and finally Bailey could see
that the figure—a giant metal bird—was not going to strike. Its slick, black-painted wings folded behind it as it stared forward, unseeing and unblinking.

“Nature's ears, that's creepy,” said Hal.

“It's Viviana's,” said Bailey. “One of those Clamor-birds Gwen told us about. Doesn't look like it's on, though.”

It was then that he noticed the box underneath the metal bird. It was a shipping crate as tall as Hal, and blazoned diagonally across its wooden side in red were the words
RECKON
,
INC
.

“Look! That's what the note said!” Bailey said, shaking Hal's shoulder and pointing. “
Reckon, Inc.
—not
Reckoning
; it's the name of a
company or something.”

The barge shuddered underneath them, groaning into motion. The sound of lapping water beat rhythmically outside the cargo hold. They were on their way to The Maze.

BAILEY SHIFTED AMONG STRIPS
of newspaper packing and some very uncomfortable cooking pots; he couldn't sleep, despite the fact that he'd
gotten no rest on the rigimotive the night before, either. They'd found a crate with a loose top that made a good hiding place, but despite his exhaustion, Bailey was afraid to shut his eyes.
He thought of Taleth, who he knew was frightened and somewhere in the hills, and the mysterious crate that shared the barge with them. After seeing the name
RECKON
,
INC
. stamped onto the side, Bailey had wanted to pry it open on the spot. It was Hal, as usual, who'd held him back.

“There's a whole night's ride to go! If we open up a crate now, what happens if someone walks in?” Hal had asked. “I'll tell you what—they won't
have far to look before they find whoever opened it. Let's wait until we dock in The Maze, break it open, and hopefully get off this barge before they find us.”

And so Bailey sat awake in the cramped crate while Hal slept, looking through a hole in the boards at the red letters, only a few feet away, that spelled out the answer to a mystery. The hours
seemed to slide by at a slug's pace.

Finally, the canvas cover over the barge lightened, and the sun rose outside. The barge began to slow, and Bailey crawled out of the crate toward the edge of the cargo hold. Looking out, he saw
a pier ahead of them. A small city of low stone buildings stretched from the river up into a range of wide hills covered in crags and weathered trees.

“Hal,” he said, shaking him awake. “We're here.”

“Oof,”
said Hal, stirring out of sleep. “Not the most comfortable pots I've ever slept on.…” He shifted up into a crouch to peer out the side of the
crate. “You're sure no one's around?”

Bailey nodded. “Now's our chance,” he said. His heart thumped in his chest as he and Hal approached the Reckon, Inc. crate.

“We've got to move this bird,” Hal said, pointing up to the Clamoribus.

The two of them climbed on top of the crates neighboring the Dominae shipment. Bailey's hands shook as he took ahold of one wing of the metal crow and Hal took the other. The bird was
lighter than he'd imagined it would be, and the metal was cool under his fingers. They eased it over the side of the Reckon box and set it down atop another crate.

Just as they were about to pry open the lid of the Reckon, Inc. crate, they heard a noise from the far end of the cargo hold. Three men entered, talking and joking loudly to one another.

“Quick,” Hal said, pulling Bailey back to the crate where they'd slept. They tried to slip back inside without making a noise. Bailey pulled the top closed, praying that the
men hadn't heard them.

“So, this lot's going straight to factory row,” said a thin-voiced sailor. “And the rest stays in the storehouse to be picked up later. Got it?”

Two other voices sounded their assent, and Bailey heard the scrapes, grunts, and footsteps. The cargo was being unloaded. He squeezed his hands into fists, hoping with his whole body that the
crate he and Hal sat in was going to the same place as the crate from Reckon, Inc. The sound of heavy footsteps drew closer to the crate.

“Ants, another Reckon shipment. These give me the creeps,” said one of the laborers.

“Why? What's in it?” asked the other.

Bailey strained to listen as the two men heaved the Reckon, Inc. crate onto a large, flat dolly.

“Haven't a clue,” said the first man. “But it's not about what's in it as much as where it's going. You haven't heard about the
factory?”

“Only that they've been offering jobs.”

“Don't take one,” said the first man. “My neighbor tried for one of those jobs. Miriam. Animas Sparrow. Always had birds flying around her.”

“What about her?” asked the second man.

The two men grunted as they straightened the crate on the dolly.

“I saw her when she came back—she was only supposed to take a day job, but she came wandering back home after being gone for three days. Couldn't tell us what had happened. Her
words didn't make any sense; she just whispered to herself.…”

“Went nutty, eh?”

Bailey held his breath. The two men had stopped to catch their own. The crate stood solidly on the dolly, towering and ominous.

“
Their wings, their claws.
That's what she was whispering, over and over,” the man said. “
Their wings, their claws.
There weren't a sparrow
who'd go near her after that.”

Bailey heard the other man let out a low whistle.

“Ants alive. You've got me shuddering,” said the second man. “Don't want to touch this thing now.”

The first man sighed.

“Think of it this way—we move the boxes down here on time, we won't find ourselves having to look for work up the hill. So let's get a move on.”

The men went silent, except for a few grunts as they rolled the dolly with the Reckon, Inc. crate off the barge.

Bailey breathed out heavily as they left.

“Bailey,” whispered Hal. “It must have been something to do with those machines. What do they
do
?”

Bailey didn't have time to answer—footsteps echoed on the boards.

“This one's for the storehouse, then?” said a voice.

The next thing Bailey knew, he was jostling around in the crate as the two men lifted it onto another dolly. They were wheeled out of the cargo hold, down the gangplank, and into the cold, dark
interior of a shoreside warehouse. The men dropped the crate without ceremony or care, and Bailey felt a fresh bruise form on his rear end where he'd collided with one of the cast-iron
cooking pots packaged in the box along with them.

The boys waited until long after they heard the door of the storehouse clank shut to make sure no one would see them emerge. Bailey lifted the top of the crate just an inch, and looked around.
They were alone in the warehouse—but he didn't see the giant metal bird anymore. It, along with the Reckon, Inc. crate, had been taken to the factory, wherever that was.

“Come on.” He gestured to Hal. The storehouse was a long, metal room. Cutouts in its rusty roof let in shafts of light, but inside was as silent and cold as a cave. Together, they
crept to the door, and carefully peered out. The serpentine streets of The Maze lay before them. The shipyard was empty except for a flock of river birds, circling and cawing above the docks. A
weed-patched alley led away into the city. Beyond the red roofs of The Maze, Bailey could see the crest of the hills, covered in dead, leaf-bare trees.

The boys set off into the alley. They saw barely anyone on the streets as they walked to the hills beyond the town. Bailey felt a stirring in his chest that he hadn't felt since
they'd left Fairmount—Taleth was not far away. In fact, the streets they walked through seemed so uncannily familiar, and he knew she had seen them too.

“Taleth was here,” he said to Hal. “It's like the bond is telling me where to go.”

Hal smiled. “It's like that sometimes,” he said. “Can you tell where she is now?”

Bailey shook his head. He wished he knew how to bring on a more intense connection—if he could only see through her eyes right then, he might know where he was headed. He'd go
whichever direction he needed to save her.

From the path up the hill, they could look behind them and see The Maze spreading out over the Fluvian harbor like a rust stain. It wasn't until they'd reached the peak of the first
hill and begun their descent into a narrow valley that the vegetation grew taller and thicker. The trees were just as stark as they had been in The Maze, but Bailey was relieved that they did not
have to trudge through snow. They kept to the path that led down into the valley and slept under the cover of some low-bending branches as the temperature plummeted that night.

The next day they woke to a cloud-hazy sunrise and ate a handful each of pear slices before they set off again. The path wound them into the heart of the valley and up the other side.

Hours had passed when Bailey finally felt a desperate pull from Taleth. Her fear overcame his mind, and his heart rate rose. Taleth could sense that he was near. She was confined to a cage or
cell. He could feel the cool metal of the bars as she pressed her head and flanks against them. At the sound of footsteps on stone, she began to growl.

“Who are you thinking of, my pretty beast?” came a deep, threatening voice. Then Bailey snapped to, back to the valley.

“What's the matter?” asked Hal.

“I can feel Taleth—she's afraid. It's almost like she knows we're coming, but she doesn't want us to.” He wished he could have stayed in her thoughts
longer, to see who was speaking to her, and to comfort her. Did she know that he sensed her? He'd ask Tremelo someday if that was what it felt like to be life-bonded…if he and Taleth made
it back to Fairmount safely, and if his teacher decided to return.

Hal steadied his glasses on his nose and pinched his lip between his teeth.

“We have to keep going,” said Bailey, sensing Hal's hesitation. “We can't just leave her.”