Plague of Mybyncia (27 page)

“Maybe they’ll find Perio,” Pratt shrugs.
“And he’ll have the other bud.”

“Did he ever mention anything like this to
you?” I ask Ariana. “Any trips to Nerwolix?”

She shakes her head, “No… he mainly…” another
gulp, “….confided in Kendal.”

“All trips off planet have to be approved,”
the queen slows in her pace. “If he had left, I would have been
notified.”

“Maybe he snuck out?” Pratt tries.

“Impossible,” Queen Ravan shakes her head.
“All Mybyncians are born with a sort of tracking device in their
bodies. It sounds when anyone travels a mile off any of the four
shores.”

“What about inbound?” I ask. “Are you aware
of all visitors?”

“It is not as easy to keep track, but yes, I
am to be notified. Chancellor Keller mainly handles our guests,
however.”

“So unless Perio somehow snuck off planet…” I
muse to myself, “…someone brought it to him.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Pratt asks.

“To harm Mybyncia… which means,” and I take a
breath, “there’s an enemy on Nerwolix.” I turn to the queen.
“Anyone you know who’d want to harm you or your people?”

She shakes her head. “We have had very little
communication with our neighbor. As Clarence explained, they tend
to keep to themselves and we do the same, unless hosting our Arizal
allies, of course.”

“I wonder who gave Perio the Nazual,” Mae
strums her fingers over her lips.

“And if he’s still here…” I catch her
eyes.

“I am sorry but I simply cannot stay here any
longer,” the queen moves for the door. “I must try to talk some
sense into Chancellor Keller about the Fychu going after the
Gorgen. Would you be okay to stay behind here and watch over my
daughters? You will be perfectly safe.”

“Will you, your Majesty?” I follow.

“This is my kingdom, child. My people will
not harm me. And if they try to, they will understand why
I
am queen and they are not,” a dark, challenging look grows in her
eye. She leaves without another word, closing the coral door behind
her.

“Cross your fingers Perio has the other bud,”
Pratt mumbles to the five of us left.

I turn to both princesses, scanning their
discolored skin with a frown. “How’re you both feeling?”

“Tired,” Ariana shuffles to the other side of
her bed, gulping in another breath of air. “But better. Thank you…”
she breaths in deeply, “all again for…” another inhale, “getting
the Dilly.”

“Yes,” Sansa adds with her own
breathlessness, “you do us great…” another gulp, “…honor.”

“Well, you hosted Blovid and then us.”

“Our mother,” Sansa inhales deeply, “wishes
to repay…” another breath, “your kindness but fears…” a last
breath, “she will be unable.”

“There’s nothing to repay, Princess. We’re
happy to help. Besides, I’m sure the Fychu won’t ask for anything
in return, honestly. Except, maybe sanctuary, if we need it.”

“You are welcome…” Ariana gulps, “…to stay as
long…” another breath, “as you like.”

“I know,” I nod. “It’s just nice to always
have a place if we need it.”

“You’ve done more…” she gulps, “than we…”

“Rest,” I command. “You both need to
rest
.” Ariana starts to protest but I shake my head.
“Please, Princess? Just rest.”

Ariana and her sister exchange looks and
after a second, willingly comply. They both sink low into their
beds as Pratt and Mae take seats on the ground against the wall,
the five of us waiting in silence. I’m not sure how much time has
passed before the boys saunter back in, utterly exhausted. Reid
piles in first, and then Tucker, Jace, Booker and Werzo, all about
to fall over.

“Where were you guys?” I jump to my feet.

“Helping clear out the queen’s chambers,”
Werzo mumbles. “Making room for more people.”

“I thought Clarence said no manual
labor?”

Werzo scowls. “He lied.”

“Clear out?” I look at Reid, studying his
weary face.

“Qippert needed all her important items moved
to a safe place. They want to get people out of the tunnels. Make
it less suffocating.”

“Makes sense… but what about the barrels of
Dilly?”

“Brought them to Varille’s room.”

“What makes
sense
is some Hunnis right
about now,” Jace plops on the bed, stretching out. Tilting his head
toward the princesses, he smiles. “Know of any stashed away in
here, by chance?”

Both shake their head, but Ariana answers,
“No… sorry.”

He shrugs. “Eh—worth a try.”

“Have they started moving people in there
already?” I brush a stray hair from Reid’s sweaty forehead, my
heart falling at the sight of his blatant exhaustion.

“Qippert’s on it right now.”

“And Sampson and Clarence?”

“Still out.”

“Want to sit?”

“God, yes,” he falls to the ground, resting
his elbows on his knees. His head sinks below his shoulders as he
lets out a long breath. “They’re getting crazier out there.”

“But they just ate,” Pratt frowns,
“
and
got Dilly.”

“They want to go home,” he explains in a
fatigued huff, “and they’re not getting any better. Everyone around
them is sick or dying. It’d drive anyone crazy,” he leans back
against the wall with a long tiresome sigh. “We need to figure out
what we’re going to do.
Quick
.”

Tucker, Booker and Werzo take a cue from Reid
and plant themselves on the ground. Not more than a few minutes
pass when Qippert slides through the door, an anxious expression on
his face.

“Sampson and Clarence have returned.”

“Did they find it?” I’m the first one to
ask.

“Not sure… but they are on their way,” he
frowns, scanning the room. “Where is Queen Ravan?”

“She went to find the chancellor. Left maybe…
twenty minutes ago?”

Anger flashes briefly, but he wipes it clean.
“I will go find her. Please,” he implores, “everyone stay
here
.” And with that, Qippert is gone again.

“Someone’s mad…” Pratt mutters.

“Why’d she leave?” Reid massages his
arms.

“Wanted to talk to Chancellor Keller about
the Gorgen. She doesn’t want us going after it.”

Sampson enters, followed by Clarence,
Chancellor Keller, Queen Ravan and Qippert. Deep in bickering
conversation already, Clarence exhales with annoyance.

“There’s nothing we can really do about it.
We’re running on limited resources…”

“I do not want him sneaking around—”

“Look, your Majesty, I get it,” Clarence
spins to her, obviously frustrated as Qippert quickly shuts the
door behind them. “But we
cannot
search the
entire
city while your people sit here dying.”

She pauses, her face a mask of surprise and
fury. “You think I am unaware of what is happening with my people?
They are already in great peril. I cannot risk their safety further
knowing some
lunatic
is running around…”

“What happened?” Reid jumps to his feet, the
question directed at Sampson.

He sighs deeply. “Perio is gone.”

“What do you mean
gone
?” I’m right
behind Reid.

“He’s not in his cell.”

“How can that be? It’s—it’s a cell.”

“Must have escaped.”

“With the healing bud, so,” Clarence sighs
with annoyance, “that’s off the table.”

“How could he have escaped?” Pratt asks,
joining Reid and I.

“And what about the others?” I ask, cutting
off the response to her question. “The rest of the Muskos?”

“Gone as well, along with
all
the
captured Vermix,” he inhales, running his hands down his face.
“When we went to the prison, it was empty. I don’t know how they
escaped, but they did, which means all the Muskos and Vermix are
loose somewhere in the city. The Vermix probably fled back to
Dellapalania, but the Muskos…”

Silence.

“But we’ll know if the
they
leave,” I
look to the queen and chancellor. “Right?”

“And where would they go?” Queen Ravan
frowns. “I do not know how I let this happen to my people,” she
falls to the bed’s edge, her focus lost in the distant. “How did I
let this happen?” she whispers to herself.

“Mother…it is…” Ariana exhales deeply, “not
your fault…”

“We will…” Sansa gulps a heavy breath, “find
him…”

“Your Majesty,” Sampson kneels before the
queen, “if I may, spend some time here with your daughters and the
chancellor. We shall do a final round of distribution for the night
and tomorrow,” he inhales sharply, “we’ll try for the straight
Dilly.”

She goes to protest but Sampson quiets her.
“Your job is to remain strong for your people. Let me worry about
this. All will be fine. Fallon,” he turns to me. “I need your help
in a final round of distribution. Mae, Pratt? Would you mind?”

We stand and head for the door. After an
exhausted breath, Reid starts up after us. I think he’s going to
close the door, but when it’s obvious he’s intent on coming with, I
spin to stop him.

“No. You’re staying here.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you out
there without protection.”

“You’re about to fall down. Hey,” I lower my
voice, stepping closer, trying to keep it just between the two of
us. “Stay here.
Rest
. We’ll be fine.”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable. I’ll go with
you.”

“
Reid
.”

“The quicker we do this, the quicker we’ll be
done. Rogues?” he glances around, meeting their exhausted faces as
they stand without hesitation at his request. “One more round.”

“Where’re the bags?” Tucker asks.

“The attendants have them,” Clarence says.
“Mallup will meet you in the main hall with four more.”

“Same pairs as earlier!” Pratt exclaims,
running to my side. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

I offer her a smile. “Alright, one more round
and we’re back here. Okay?”

After everyone agrees, we file out and head
for the Great Hall where Mallup and the other attendants wait to
hand out the bags. Pratt takes ours, already walking away, but I
slow, watching as Tucker and Reid reach for theirs next. Mallup
swiftly jets to the side of the Rogue Leader, positioning herself
next to Reid. Already jabbering away, she smiles too sweetly and
brushes a lock of long, rose-colored hair behind her ear.

I watch the interaction, Pratt grasping my
wrist. “He won’t.”

“But
she
will.”

“Not if she knows what’s good for her.”

Forcing myself to look away, I make for our
end of the room, where we distributed the food and Dilly the entire
day. Pratt is behind me and we set to work as quickly as possible.
The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can retire back to our room
and be away from everyone.

We’re through half of our bag when I glance
up to check on Reid. He’s with Tucker and, much to my heated
horror, joined by Mallup. She’s barely a foot away from him and
steadily inching closer. Tucker is distracted by conversation with
another attendant, unaware of Reid’s flirtatious company.

“What?” Pratt follows my gaze once she
realizes I’ve stopped.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself not to
overreact. He hasn’t done anything and they’re only talking—for
now. I’m not going to make a scene over nothing,
especially
when there are more important matters at hand. She just better keep
her hands to herself.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” I
ask, holding the bag open.

Pratt reaches in and scoops free a handful of
the green weed. Offering it to a graying couple on the floor, she
says without missing a beat, “How you’re going to kick her ass if
she touches him.”

I laugh, letting the comment fill me with
relief.

But then, Mallup’s high-pitched giggling
ripples through the morose Hall, igniting the raging fire within.
Glancing over again, I find her inching closer to Reid, and it
takes everything I have not to cross the room and yank her back by
her rose-colored locks. Instead, I focus on keeping my feet
planted. “And if he’s not? They seem rather chummy to me.”

Pratt follows my stare with a scowl. “She can
want his dick all she wants, but she’s not getting it.”

“Pratt!” I nearly drop the bag.

“What?”

“Where did
that
come from?”

“What?”

Still trying to compose myself from her
statement, I lower my voice and lean in, “Where did you learn how
to speak like that?”

“That?” she winces. “That was nothing.”

“Boy…” I take a breath, shaking my head as I
move down to the next group of Mybyncians on the floor. “The Rogues
must’ve done a job on you.”

“Wasn’t the Rogues,” she follows. “I’ve been
talking like this before Harrizel.”

The question I’ve been dying to ask her
suddenly reemerges. But is it the right time? With the way events
are going, we might not have another quiet moment between us.
Besides, we’re on the topic. “Pratt,” I clear my throat, “what uh…
what happened before Harrizel?”

Without looking at me, she offers a bowlful
of Dilly to a gray-skinned miyon on the ground. “Why?”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m just…
curious.”

A long, solid minute passes before she
finally answers. “Lived in a foster home.”

“How long were you there?”

“That one?”

Her question takes me off guard. “How many
have you lived in?”

“Enough.”

“The last one, then,” I shuffle along,
looking at her over my shoulder. “How long were you there?”

“Seven months. One before two years and
before that, nineteen days.”

“Nineteen days?” I stop with a gasp.

She nods, handing out another dosage of
Dilly. “Me and the others—we didn’t get our own clothes. Had to
share everything...”

“How many of you were there?”

“Seven.”

“Seven!” I gasp again.