Flight of the King (7 page)

Tori handed the paper over the desk to Hal, who fed it through the same slot the snake had used to enter the machine.

The same clicks and metal whirring tapped out from the inside of the gadget, and the paper curled out the other side of the machine with finely printed words on it. Some letters were missing,
but they could make out:

The Reckon in is set for t e Spr g q n x. Joan, I count ng on you

“Joan—that's Ms. Sucrette,” said Phi.

“I knew it!” said Bailey.

“This wasn't left for Viviana to find; it was sent here
by
Viviana,” said Hal.

“Reckon…reckoning?” Bailey whispered. “What does it mean?”

“A calculation of something, or something coming to light,” Tremelo answered.

“She plans to…reveal something, then?” Hal took another piece of paper from Tremelo's desk and hurriedly jotted down an exact copy of the note, which he folded into his
pocket.

“Fascinating,” said Tremelo, looking carefully at the machine. “The machine somehow receives a message, stores the sequence of letters, and prints it. Looks like the ink has
dried quite a bit since the fall, though. I wish we could make out the whole note.”

“A ‘Reckoning,'” said Tori. “Sounds big.”

Tremelo nodded. Then his eyes settled on Bert, who was dozing on Bailey's shoulder.

“You're doing pretty well with him,” Tremelo said. “After homeroom it's straight to the assembly to hear our illustrious guest. If there's any day on which
you need to appear to be Animas Iguana, today would be it. Lest you forget what Viviana was ‘counting on' Joan to do.”

Bailey shuddered. Tremelo was right. If he was exposed as the Animas White Tiger of the Loon's prophecy, Viviana would succeed where Sucrette had failed—she would kill him.

“I'll keep this safe,” Tremelo said, nodding to the machine. “Better get your day started. It's going to be an interesting one.”

The students filed out of the office and into the classroom, where other students had begun arriving slowly for homeroom.

Just as Bailey reached his desk, Bert took a daring leap off his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Hey, look who's awake!” laughed Tori.

Bert scurried left and right, bumping his nose into more than one desk leg.

“Come
on
,” said Bailey. He went to retrieve the confused Bert from the floor, but the lizard kept crawling away; he was surprisingly fast. “Hey, come back!”
Bailey called, as Bert scuttled to the classroom door—but someone else's hands closed around him before Bailey could grab him.

“Here you are,” said Dr. Graves. He held Bert, who squirmed in his grip. “Not quite on the same page with this wretched thing yet, are you?”

Bailey took Bert and stepped back.

“I heard that you had a late Awakening. I imagine you must still be getting used to interacting with your…kin,” Graves continued. His left eyebrow was raised in either amusement or
suspicion. Bailey held Bert still, his mouth dry and cottony.

“Sure. I guess,” he said.

“I'm certain you'll get the hang of it,” Graves said, looking Bailey up and down. Bailey stood a bit straighter and fought the urge to brush off a fine layer of dust on
his clothes. Bert had a bit of cobweb hanging off his pointy-scaled back ridge.

“Just takes a little practice and an inquisitive mind,” said Graves. “Which, no doubt, you have.”

Bailey didn't answer—he was too nervous.

Graves nodded a farewell and continued down the hall.

Bailey returned to his homeroom desk and sat down with a thud.

“Just try to tell me that wasn't a little creepy,” he said, meeting his friends' stares. “Graves knows something's off about me, for sure.”

“Nature's tentacles,” said Tori. “Is e
very
one a spy?”

THE SMELLS OF A
delicious breakfast—with the rare, strange scent of cooked meats—wafted through the train car. A small creature entered,
then darted behind the upholstered seats and crept under the polished tables. She stayed low to ground, which was covered with an odd red fur that felt soft under her paws. A scrap of sausage
caught her attention, and she chomped down on it quickly, though food was not her mission today.

Fennel wrinkled her pointy black nose. The woman had sat here, the one Tremelo feared. The scent of perfume hung in the air—she had only just now stepped away into a small room at the back
of the train car. On the seat, a stack of papers had been left out. Fennel bit the corner of a folded piece of paper and dragged it from the top of the pile, nudging it open with her nose.

Careful!
she felt her kin, Tremelo, urging her.
She can't know we've been here.

Fennel kept her eyes trained on the sheet of paper before her—a confusing, geometric crisscrossing of lines and curves, with numbers jotted all over. She felt building waves of
understanding from Tremelo, who was safe in his office. He was deciphering what she'd unfolded, even if she could not. The sight of it had shaken him, and she felt a hum of activity from
him—he was begging her to keep looking. She whimpered softly, her tiny heart fluttering.

The smell of perfume grew stronger as the woman's shadow appeared behind the cloudy glass of the door. The door handle turned. Fennel nudged the paper back into place, and crouched under
the seat. She kept her eyes trained on the heels of the woman who walked past. The woman stopped to adjust her jacket and skirt, and then she left the train car. Fennel, as silent as a ghost,
followed.

Back in the Applied Sciences building, Tremelo lurched from his trancelike state back into his own mind. Emerging from Fennel's consciousness was jarring, especially when she was upset or
anxious. He steadied his breath, which had become shallow and quick during his bond with Fennel. He stared down at the charcoal pencil in his hand and the paper on his desk in front of him—it
had been blank when he'd first sent Fennel into Viviana's land train. Now he saw shapes and angles, measurements and notes copied by his own messy hand. He understood what Fennel could
not—it was a blueprint for some kind of machine. Boxlike and ornate, with a chamber in its center for a separate power source, it confounded him. He did not know what it was for or what it
would do, but finding this out had just become his most important task.

BAILEY, PHI, AND HAL
sat together in silence in the back row of the Fairmount meeting hall. In front of them were rows of laughing, gossiping
students, waiting eagerly for Viviana to appear. The land train had arrived on campus that morning during homeroom, which meant that Viviana, the woman who wanted to kill Bailey—who had
already tried—was close by. He could almost picture her sniffing the air for him like a predatory beast, and he pulsed with fear.

“She doesn't know who you are,” Phi whispered, reminding him. “Just be calm.”

“Have you heard from Gwen today?” Bailey whispered back.

Phi shook her head. “I saw her yesterday, though, and she said she hadn't changed her mind about helping us.”

Bailey was worried about Gwen getting caught, but also he felt a sort of comfort, imagining her close by. Tremelo was nowhere to be seen, and Bailey hoped he was busying himself with the
plan—whatever it was.

Tori was another matter entirely, however. Hal had saved her a seat, but as Bailey scanned the crowd, he saw her several rows ahead, talking with a boy he didn't recognize.

“Who's that Tori's with?” Bailey asked.

“His name's Lyle,” Hal said, as if it were the name of a disgusting food. “And I don't trust anyone whose name rhymes with
bile
.”

“How did they meet?” Bailey asked.

“He's from the Gray too,” said Phi. “They met on the rigimotive back from Midwinter break, and they're in Tremelo's afternoon Tinkering class
together.”

“Tori's in Tinkering?” Bailey asked. “I never would have guessed that. She thinks Tremelo's a crackpot—as a teacher, anyway.”

Phi just shrugged.

“Maybe she has interests you two don't know about,” she said. “Or maybe you just never asked.”

The chatter in the meeting hall died to a murmur as Headmaster Finch and Ms. Shonfield appeared on the stage. Finch, in a mustard plaid three-piece suit, radiated pride. For once, he was
actually smiling. Bailey's skin prickled into gooseflesh as the dean took his place behind a slender wooden podium.

“Students of Fairmount!” Finch called, gesturing for silence. “We are honored to be the first stop on Miss Viviana Melore's tour of the kingdom!” He was met with a
smattering of applause. Bailey reminded himself that these students didn't know the evil Viviana was actually capable of; it was only because of Sucrette's attempt to murder him that
he'd become fully aware of the Dominae at all.

Viviana entered then, but did not take the stage. Instead, she was led to a seat in the front row of the auditorium as she waved cheerfully at the students and teachers. She wore a purple dress
with gold buttons down the front, and a dark mauve traveling hat with matching gloves. Bailey could see already how much she resembled Tremelo—the same dark hair, and the way her eyebrows
raised just slightly. It was a sly look, the same one that Tremelo made when Bailey would ask a question that he didn't care to answer. He stared at her as she took her seat.

A group of student dancers came onstage, along with five deer and two antelopes. They performed a choreographed routine in which the human dancers leapt alongside their animal kin, forming
undulating patterns of movement across the stage. After the final pose and the following applause, a thirty-member student chorus took to the stage to perform “I Place My Paw with the
Kingdom,” a rousing battle song, accompanied by the howls of several breeds of dog, several strains of birdsong, and the chittering of a pair of raccoons. With each performance, Bailey became
more restless, and even irritated. Everyone at Fairmount was falling over themselves to impress the daughter of King Melore, when none of them knew how unlike that king she really was.

Finally, Headmaster Finch took to the stage again, and introduced Viviana.

“A woman of values, and the daughter of our most-beloved king—we couldn't be prouder to have you grace our halls!” Finch said. Bailey held his breath as Viviana rose from
her seat and climbed the three small steps to the platform. Finch stretched out his hands to clasp Viviana's. They kissed very formally on the cheek, and she took his place at the podium.

“My goodness, what a wonderful sight!” she said, looking out at the students. “You students are a treat to these eyes after all the stuffy politicians in the capital. Thank you
for having me!”

More applause. It turned Bailey's stomach.

“I've come here with an express purpose,” Viviana began.

Bailey breathed in. He suddenly imagined her saying his name, pointing him out in front of the entire school, and ordering his death.

“An invitation!” Viviana said. “It was my father's dream to encourage great advances in the kingdom. But he was cut down, at the very event that sought to showcase the
most exciting new inventions of the age. Now I plan to continue his work by holding the Progress Fair once more—just as he would have done!”

Bailey and Hal looked at each other nervously.

“Two months from today, the second Progress Fair will unite the kingdom! And you students must be a part of this celebration. We will feature a student Scientific Competition, as well as a
Scavage tournament, at which your Fairmount team is sure to excel!”

A burst of cheers and applause erupted. Viviana smiled, and then began speaking about the upgrades she planned for the rigimotive system.

“I don't get it,” said Bailey, leaning close to Hal. “A Progress Fair? Our evil queen's evil plan is…a festival?”

Hal dug in his pocket and pulled out his copy of the note that the mysterious machine had printed that morning.