Neverseen (18 page)

“I bet we could’ve done it together,” Fitz said.

“Maybe,” Sophie admitted. “I wish you could’ve been there.”

“Me too. Don’t run off like that again, okay?” he asked.

“I’ll try not to.” Sophie hoped his small smile meant she’d been forgiven.

“And we did learn something super important,” Biana added. “The Neverseen guy we met today went to Exillium.”

“Does that mean he’s the Boy Who Disappeared?” Fitz asked.

“It seems like it,” Sophie said. “And even if he isn’t, now we might have a way to find out who he is.”

“Already on it,” Dex said, running toward his bedroom. He raced back a minute later holding a Dexified Imparter, with wires jutting out the corners of the small silver square.

“I put all the stolen Exillium records on here,” he said, twisting the wires and tapping the screen. “We’re looking for Psionipaths, right?”

Sophie nodded. “There can’t be many of those, can there?”

“You’d be surprised,” Della said, treating a thin scratch on Biana’s cheek. “The talent can be unstable, like pyrokinesis. Not quite as dangerous, but it’s one of the most common abilities among the banished.”

“Well, we still know his age range
and
his special ability,” Sophie said. “That will have to narrow things down. And once we figure out who he is, we’ll work on finding him—assuming the Black Swan hasn’t caught him already.”

Dex frowned. “Looks like there’s eight guys with that ability who were at Exillium at the right time. And none of them ever made it back to the Lost Cities.”

“Great—so it’s another dead end,” Keefe said, looking like he wanted to punch something.

Sophie heard him mumble under his breath, “
He was right in front of them.”

She wished she could make him understand how much she’d wanted to learn something about his mom. Instead, she
joined Fitz and Biana, who had gathered around Dex, studying the list of eight Exillium Psionipaths. None of the names looked familiar, and they were all banished for some variation of the same reason:
proven unstable and unfit for society.
But surely there had to be something that would clue them in to which one was him.

“That does not look like an approved assignment,” Mr. Forkle said, stomping into the room.

Sophie was too happy he was still alive—and safe—to care about his grumbling.

The rest of the Collective filed in behind him, all equally unharmed.

Her joy evaporated when Mr. Forkle said, “All of Brackendale is an inferno of Everblaze. The Neverseen must’ve torched the area after you left.”

“Do you think the tree will survive in its force field?” Sophie asked.

“I suspect it was already gone,” Calla said. “I searched underground most carefully and couldn’t find a single root.”

“So that’s it?” Fitz asked.

“For the moment,” Mr. Forkle said, collapsing into one of the empty beanbag boulders. “We’ll find a way to alert the Council so they can extinguish the Everblaze.”

A loud
THUMP!
turned everyone’s heads, and they spotted Keefe shaking his fist.

“We echo your frustrations, Mr. Sencen,” Mr. Forkle said.
“But punching walls is not the answer. Remember, Miss Foster has a photographic memory.” He turned to Sophie. “I’m going to need to see all of your memories of the tree.”

Sophie nodded, proud of herself for not fidgeting as he poked around her mind. She tried to feel his presence, but his telepathy was completely undetectable.

“The tree was healthy?” he asked after several seconds.

“I thought that was strange too,” Sophie said. “I’d figured it was incubating the plague under the force field, but if that were true, the branches or leaves would’ve looked sickly, right?”

“One would assume,” Mr. Forkle said.

“So maybe they were incubating something else.” Granite glanced at the other members of the Collective before adding, “It’s possible the Neverseen could be working on a cure.”

“That almost makes sense,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “If they develop a cure before the Council, they could use it as leverage, much the same as if they’d managed to capture the alicorns in their previous attempts.”

“But how can a tree be the cure?” Dex asked.

“It could be a test subject,” Blur suggested.

“Or it could be a Panakes,” Calla breathed.

For a second Sophie thought Calla had said “Pancakes” and found herself picturing a tree made of fluffy griddle cakes drizzled with syrup and butter.

“What’s a Panakes?” she asked.

“Nothing more than legend,” Squall said.

“That is what many believe,” Calla agreed. “But I’ve never been convinced either way. There are so many songs, all telling the same story of the Brave Ones—the Trees of Healing that grew along the shores of the Eventide River during our years in Serenvale. Some say the trees were lost when the river ran dry and we were forced to flee our homeland. Others claim they never existed beyond the stories. And still others claim the Panakes thrive today, imprisoned behind the gates of Ravagog.”

“The last myth has never been confirmed by any who’ve visited the city,” Mr. Forkle reminded her.

“Yes, but hasn’t their access been severely limited?” Calla asked. “I’m not a fool. I know the possibilities are slim. But until I have proof either way, I will not completely abandon my hope.”

“Do you know what the Panakes look like?” Sophie asked.

“Only my imaginings,” Calla said.

“Well,” Mr. Forkle said, shattering the silence that followed. “These are all certainly things we must investigate. But first, we have bigger issues.”

He rose from his beanbag—which required quite a lot of thrashing and flailing—and moved to stand over Calla. “You acted without orders.”

“I did,” Calla agreed. “But I will not apologize.”

Sophie wasn’t sure if she wanted to give Calla a high five or hide her from the furious Collective.

Calla, meanwhile, remained remarkably calm. “Have you ever wondered why moonlarks do not bring their hatchlings back to their nests?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Wraith asked.

Calla ignored his question. “They leave their hatchlings alone because they know their young need to be strong. Moonlarks face more predators than most other creatures. So even though the parents follow their eggs across the ocean and are never far away from the babies, they do not make contact, and they do not bring them to the nest. Their instincts know that if they did, they would shelter the younglings and weaken their ability to survive.”

“So if I’m understanding you correctly,” Granite said, “you’re implying we’re overprotecting our moonlark?”

“Have you put her—or her friends—to use since bringing her here?”

“It’s only been a few days,” Squall argued.

“And we’re giving them in-depth training,” Granite added.

“Plus, we’ll be putting them in
major
danger when we rescue Prentice,” Blur finished.

Sophie wasn’t sure she loved that emphasis on “major danger.” But she also knew Calla was right.

“The mission we went on today,” she said, “was no different than any of the other places you’ve sent me with your notes and clues. How many times have I almost died?”

“All the more reason why we’re taking only calculated risks,” Mr. Forkle said.

“Which is what this was,” Calla insisted. “You’ve known me for centuries. You know that endangering Sophie—or any of these children—is the last thing I would ever do. But you also must accept the reality that sometimes we’re going to need their help.”

Mr. Forkle walked to the fire and stared at the flames so long Sophie felt twitchy.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he finally said. “We have not been utilizing their talents to the full. And in light of today’s developments, it’s crucial we attempt to discern what the Neverseen are planning. So I think it’s time we attempt Mr. Sencen’s plan.”

“
My
plan?” Keefe asked, looking as confused as Sophie.

Surely the Black Swan weren’t implying they were going to go barreling into Ravagog.

But then she remembered that Keefe had suggested another plan—one Mr. Forkle had even said had its merits.

Mr. Forkle confirmed her suspicions when he said, “Tomorrow the three of us will pay a visit to Gethen.”

W
HAT DO YOU
mean by ‘three’?” Fitz asked the Collective. “There are five of us—six if you include my mom.”

“I’m aware,” Mr. Forkle said. “But I only need Miss Foster and Mr. Sencen for this.”

“But I’m Sophie’s Cognate!” Fitz argued.

“Cognate-in-
training
,” Mr. Forkle corrected. “Besides, Miss Foster will only use her abilities
if
I decide it’s safe. And Mr. Sencen is only going to be the ruse.” He turned to Keefe. “You’re confident you can mimic your mother’s voice?”

“You have no idea how many detentions I’ve talked my way out of.”

Mr. Forkle didn’t find that as reassuring as Keefe intended. But all he said was, “Be ready at sunrise.”

He met them in the bridge’s gazebo the next morning, wearing a long black cloak with the Neverseen’s symbol on the sleeve. To say the costume triggered panic was an understatement.

When everyone was done screaming and bracing for attack, Mr. Forkle tossed back his hood and gave Sophie and Keefe matching cloaks. Sophie’s hands shook as she slipped on her costume, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the sleeve, remembering all the times the same white eye had taunted her dreams.

Keefe looked just as pale, but his jaw was set with determination.

“Be safe,” Della whispered, pulling them both close for a hug.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come?” Fitz tried one more time.

“Yes, Mr. Vacker. But don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to risk your life in the future.”

The sad part was, Mr. Forkle wasn’t
really
joking.

“Remember your panic switch if you need me,” Dex told Sophie.

“That is very generous, Mr. Dizznee. But we’re going somewhere you’ll be unable to follow unless you have one of these.”

Mr. Forkle pulled a grayish vial out of his cloak pocket,
and Sophie groaned when she recognized the weak glow of Candesia—one of the five unmapped stars. Sophie had endured a leap with its light once before, during an exhausting test the Black Swan put her and Keefe through to try and figure out how the Neverseen kept following them.

“It is not my first choice either, Miss Foster. But there was only one place we could think to move Gethen that the Neverseen could not easily burn.”

Sophie sighed. “Underwater.”

The leap felt
every bit as endless as Sophie remembered, as if time had screeched to a halt, trapping them forever in the empty gray nothing. And yet, somehow it still seemed too soon when they collapsed in the soggy circle of sand. An invisible force field created a dome of air around them.

“Was this made by a Psionipath?” Sophie asked, holding up her balefire pendant to inspect the edges of the force field.

“One of the best,” Mr. Forkle agreed.

“Where’s our kraken buddy this time?” Keefe asked, squinting at the empty ocean.

“The water is too warm here. Last time I sent you to our northern retreat. This is our eastern hold.”

Sophie shouldn’t have been surprised that the Black Swan had more than one underwater hideout—or a Psionipath on their team. But it was hard to process how truly huge their organization was turning out to be.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t see a prison?” Keefe asked, pacing the length of the bubble.

Mr. Forkle stomped his feet. “The prison is beneath us.”

He removed a parcel from his cloak pocket, releasing a plume of stink as he unwrapped a blob of solidified black slime.

“What’s that?” Sophie asked, plugging her nose to block the sour-cheese smell.

“Congealed selkie skin,” Mr. Forkle said. “I’ve just signaled the dwarves below to take out the slice I sent them. A tredgeon will soon find the smell irresistible and create our tunnel.”

Sophie had no idea what a tredgeon was, but she had a feeling it was better not to ask. Instead she said, “Does that mean the dwarves are working with us again?”

“A handful of them, yes. And they are incredibly generous to do so considering Yegor passed away yesterday.”

Sophie’s heart felt like it had been dunked in ice water. “He was the dwarf injured on Everest, wasn’t he?”

Mr. Forkle nodded.

The fury made Sophie shake—or she thought that was the reason, until she realized the ground was shaking as well. Seconds later she noticed a giant bump racing toward them, but when she flinched back, Mr. Forkle told her, “Remain still. And make no sound.”

He tossed the selkie skin to the center of their small space, just as a huge iridescent claw popped out of the sand. A second
claw followed, along with way too many squirming legs and antennae and some sort of giant glowing opalescent shell.

The tredgeon gobbled up the selkie skin and burrowed back into the sand, leaving a gaping tunnel.

“Our path awaits,” Mr. Forkle said.

“Isn’t that thing still down there?” Sophie whispered.

“Probably. But it’s perfectly harmless.”

“It didn’t look harmless.” In fact, Sophie was pretty sure those claws would feature prominently in her nightmares.

Still, she followed Mr. Forkle into the tunnel. Every shift of the sand made her jump, anticipating a tredgeon attack.

“Easy, Foster,” Keefe told her, offering her his hand.

She took it. “You’re shaking. . . .”

“Uh, yeah. Giant claws could come popping out of the sand any second!”

“Honestly, have you two never seen a sand crab before?” Mr. Forkle asked.

“Teeny tiny ones I caught in the waves when my parents took me to the beach,” Sophie said. “Is that what those things look like when they’re bigger?”

She scratched her arms, feeling like the time she’d seen a butterfly under a microscope and deeply regretted ever letting them land on her fingers.

“Actually, tredgeons are much prettier,” Mr. Forkle promised. “The dwarves esteem tredgeon carapace above any gem. King Enki’s crown is carved from a single piece.”