Neverseen (41 page)

“Wow, that’s like an antivanish,” Biana said. “How did you do that?”

“We can trade ability secrets another time,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “At the moment, I have a proposition for the Song twins. Shall we?”

He pointed to the river dividing them.

Linh swept her arm and raised the water into an arch before taking her brother’s hand and guiding him forward.

“Wow,” Fitz breathed, and Sophie hoped he meant the river trick—but it was hard to tell with the way he was staring at Linh.

Dex seemed equally stunned as the twins crossed under the river and Linh set the water down for its normal flow. The
only boy who didn’t look impressed was Keefe—but that was probably because he was too busy glaring at Tam.

“So who are you guys?” Tam asked, frowning as he studied Mr. Forkle’s ruckleberry wrinkles.

“This is Mr. Forkle,” Sophie said. “He . . . takes a little getting used to. And these are my friends, Dex, Keefe, Fitz, and Biana.”

Linh bowed shyly and introduced herself.

“I really love your hair,” Biana told her.

Linh pulled at the long strands, brushing the silver tips against her palms. “Mine is less of a protest than my brother’s. I melted my pendant to remind myself what happens when I lose control.”

“Enough about our hair,” Tam said. “Why are you here?”

“To make you an offer.” Mr. Forkle turned to Sophie, and she explained about the arrangements the Black Swan had made with the dwarves.

“What’s the catch?” was Tam’s first question.

Mr. Forkle’s lips curled with half a smile. “There is none. King Enki and I have everything arranged. All he asks is that you respect his laws while you live there—which are really no different than elvin laws, except perhaps slightly
less
restrictive.”

Tam blinked several times. “Why are you helping us?”

“Because someone
should
.” Mr. Forkle stepped closer, his wrinkled features softening. “I make a point of trying to right the wrongs I see in my world.”

Linh wiped her eyes. “This is far more than we ever could’ve expected.”

“It still seems like there has to be a catch,” Tam mumbled.

“There isn’t,” Sophie promised.

“Please,” Linh whispered to her brother. “I can’t stay here any longer.”

Her eyes roved to the dying Wildwood Grove, and fresh tears welled.

Tam sighed, tugging on the ends of his bangs. “I guess we could give it a try.”

“A wise decision,” Mr. Forkle told him. “If the arrangement doesn’t suit you, we can find another. Do you need assistance packing up your tents?”

Linh shook her head. “We always keep everything gathered in case we have to flee. Give me five minutes.”

She raised the river again, earning yet another “wow” from Dex and Fitz as she ran for the grove of trees.

“So,” Tam said, circling Mr. Forkle. “I’m assuming Sophie told you everything I told her yesterday?”

“She did. It made me wish I’d spoken to you and your sister the last time I was here.”

Tam froze. “When was that?”

“Several weeks ago, when I came to investigate the plague. I’m afraid my search was no less hasty than the Council’s—a mistake I intend to correct.”

“But I don’t remember seeing you,” Tam said.

“That’s because I didn’t want to be seen. One cannot live the lives I lead without mastering the art of hiding.”

Tam glanced at Sophie.
“You’re right. This guy’s going to take some getting used to.”

“It’s worth it though,” Sophie said.

“I hope so.” Tam’s shadow fell over hers, and he shadow-whispered, “I’m trusting
you
. I don’t care about me, but if something happens to Linh . . .”

I promise, we’re only trying to help,
Sophie transmitted.

Keefe let out a sigh that sounded more like a groan. “And I thought secret Telepath conversations were the worst. Just so we’re clear,” he told Tam. “
I’m
the president of the Foster fan club. And we’re closed to new members.”

Tam’s cheeks flushed. “Uh . . . not sure what that’s about but . . . no worries there—no offense!” he told Sophie.

She noticed he stole a quick glance at Biana after he said it.

Sophie couldn’t decide if she should feel relieved or insulted. She was saved from having to decide by the river rising again.

“Wow,” Dex and Fitz whispered, right on cue.

Linh crossed the riverbed carrying two small bags and a long cylinder, with poles sticking out of one end.

“You won’t need the tents,” Mr. Forkle told her.

“I hope not,” Linh said, “but I’ll feel safer knowing we still have a backup plan. Plus, we try not to leave a trace of anywhere we’ve lived.”

“You’re going to wash the campsite, right?” Tam asked her.

Linh nodded and raised her arms, gathering a storm over their former home. As soon as the clouds were in place, she clapped her hands and the storm burst, raining so hard the trees bent.

The rush of water flooded the river, but before it overflowed Linh waved her hands, wiping out the storm even faster than it had formed.

“Impressive,” Mr. Forkle told her. “You show more control than you realize.”

“I’ve learned to create fixed points,” she said. “Tiny drops of steady among the chaos. They give me something to focus on and help me to keep a tighter hold. But the more water there is, the more it slips beyond my control.”

“Of course,” Mr. Forkle said. “Water is an element, no less volatile than fire or air. All you can hope for is exactly what you’re achieving—victory within limits. I know someone who might be able to help.”

“Who?” Sophie asked.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Mr. Forkle reached into his pocket and pulled out two simple chains hanging with a tiny piece of magsidian shaped like a star. “The dwarves gave me these. They will take you to your new home and signal that you have permission to be there. Keep them safe, and never take them off. King Enki said he’d have provisions sent to you this afternoon. If there’s anything you’re missing, bring
Miss Foster a list to Exillium and I’ll make sure you get it.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Linh asked as she looped her pendant around her neck.

“No. These are your lives. We won’t interfere.”

Tam looked relieved until Mr. Forkle added, “But before you go, I do have a request for Mr. Song.”

“
There’s
the catch!” Tam said, as if his world finally made sense. “And don’t call me that.”

“Is Mr.
Tam
acceptable?” Mr. Forkle asked. “I prefer to keep things formal. And it most definitely is
not
a catch. You’re free to leave right now if you’d like—that is your choice. But I hope you’ll consider my request and read the shadowvapor of the Wildwood Grove.”

“You want me to do a reading on a bunch of sick trees . . . ,” Tam said slowly.

“Assuming you’re willing,” Mr. Forkle agreed.

“I can already tell you it’ll be off the charts,” Tam told him, “since, y’know, the trees are dying.”

“That
is
what one would expect from a plague. But as I said before, I plan to improve upon my previous investigation. This time I intend to be incredibly thorough.”

Tam shrugged and stretched out his shadow, letting the darkness cover the grove in a smoky blanket.

“I don’t understand,” Tam said as the seconds ticked by.

“So it
is
as I thought,” Mr. Forkle said. “Thank you—you’ve been very helpful.”

“Wait,” Tam said as Mr. Forkle pulled out his pathfinder. “How did you know I wouldn’t feel anything?”

“I didn’t. But I’d hoped that would be the result.”

“Why?” Sophie asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means the plague feeds off shadowvapor. And hopefully we are one clue closer to a cure.”

Y
OU WERE RIGHT
,” Fitz said as they climbed the stairs to their tree houses. “I
do
like the twins.”

“So do I,” Dex agreed.

Mr. Forkle had left to update the physicians in Lumenaria on their findings about the plague. Sophie
tried
to feel his optimism, but she couldn’t quite get there.

Knowing more about how the plague worked
was
a good thing. But it still didn’t feel like
enough.

“Someone needs to tell Shade Boy the role of Troublemaker with Daddy Issues is already filled,” Keefe mumbled, pulling her back to their conversation.

“You could’ve told him that when you warned him about the Foster fan club,” Biana suggested.

“Or not,” Sophie jumped in. “Seriously, why don’t you like Tam?” she asked Keefe.

“What’s to like?” He pretended to flip imaginary bangs, deepening his voice before saying, “The only people who refuse readings are those with darkness to hide.”

His impersonation was spot-on. But Sophie could hear a trace of something deeper behind the tease—the same thing she’d seen on Keefe’s face when he’d refused Tam’s reading.

He’d turned into the boy in the boobrie dude’s tent again—scared and angry and lost.

“I think you’ll change your mind when you get to know him,” Sophie said. “It sounds like you guys have a lot in common.”

They’d reached the tree houses by then, and Granite was waiting in the girls’ common room, along with Della, who looked wrung out after another visit with Prentice.

“The Council has decided to keep Silveny’s pregnancy secret,” Granite told Sophie. “And they’ve accepted your offer to help them communicate. In fact, they gave me some questions they’d like you to ask her today, so Vika can prepare before she visits.”

“Vika
Heks
?” Sophie asked, her nose crinkling when he nodded.

The last time Vika had been around Silveny, she’d tried to tie the alicorn up and drag her to her family’s unicorn preserve. But . . . much as Sophie hated to admit it, they probably were going to need Vika’s help. The Heks family had been breeding unicorns for centuries.

Sophie sent out a call for Silveny, and within a few seconds her mind filled with Silveny’s exuberant greeting. Silveny confirmed that she hadn’t told anyone about the baby—not even Greyfell, which earned her a lecture about telling the daddy. She also said she was two weeks pregnant, and that the baby would arrive in forty-two weeks, during the blue moon. She then spent the rest of their talk begging for swizzlespice, and complaining about her new pasture.

Apparently the Council had moved the alicorns away from the normal equestrian area and set them up in a much smaller meadow with blue grass that Silveny found scratchy and sour. Sophie promised to find out if there was anywhere else the alicorns could live—and to get her a double shipment of treats. And while Silveny was
not
thrilled about a Vika visit, she perked up when Sophie gave her permission to drag Vika through the mud like she had the last time.

The next step was hailing Councillor Oralie to give her the update. Sophie’s stomach twisted as she gave the command to the Imparter.

Oralie wasn’t alone when she answered. Councillor Terik stood behind her and explained that he’d been assigned to
monitor the conversation, to make sure no treasonous activities were happening.

Sophie studied their faces, wondering if she was speaking to the same Councillors who Tam had overheard in Wildwood.

The idea made her insides twist even tighter.

“Is something wrong?” Oralie asked.

Sophie started to nod, but then her mind flashed to the night Oralie risked everything to give her Kenric’s cache.

Terik was also one of her few steady defenders.

“I’m just worried about the gnomes,” she said. “I don’t understand how this happened.”

“Neither do we,” Terik murmured—and there.

Right there.

Sophie saw the fear, mixed with a tiny bit of shame.

It only lasted a fraction of a second.

But it had definitely been there.

Which must mean the Council really
had
known—not that Sophie could prove it. And she was sure if she did, they’d claim they had reasons.

Mr. Forkle had said the same, but . . . could any excuse be good enough for blindsiding the gnomes?

“Did you hear me?” Councillor Terik asked, reminding her she was supposed to be listening.

“Sorry, what was the question?” Sophie asked.

“I asked how things are going at Exillium.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Do you really want to know?”

“If we must,” Terik said, and the sigh in his voice made Sophie snap.

Even if the Council did have a reason for keeping the plague secret—there was
no
excuse for the neglect Sophie saw every day at Exillium. So she told them about the physician’s lack of supplies, and how threadbare all the tents and mats and towels were, and how meager the food was at lunchtime, and how the Coaches were forced to rely on fear and suffocating rules to keep control without enough help.

“You build entire cities out of jewels and live in glittering castles,” Sophie said, “but you can’t spare any medicine or food for a group of kids who are smart and talented and would try way harder if they weren’t constantly being told they’re worthless? What’s the point of having the school in the first place? It could be a valuable rehabilitation center if you supported it. But you’re letting it go to waste.”

Silence followed her outburst, and Sophie braced for a lengthy lecture.

Instead Oralie whispered, “You’re right. Exillium was originally created to be a center for alternative learning. I’m not sure how we lost sight of that, but . . . not anymore. Give me a list of everything they need, and I’ll get it—you have my word.”

“Just like that?” Sophie asked.

Oralie nodded. “Thank you for opening my eyes. Kenric would be so proud of you.”

The name felt warm, and it relaxed Sophie’s nerves, untangling some of her knots.

Kenric would’ve known about the plague, too. But he’d also been a good person—she was absolutely certain of that.

So maybe finding the truth would show her how he was able to be both.

“I’ve been thinking
about legacies,” Calla said when she found Sophie outside the next day, letting Iggy have a few minutes of bug hunting time.