The Conjurer's Riddle

by Andrea Cremer

  “Not here.” She pointed to the niche. “Out of sight. Quickly.”

  Birch startled at Charlotte’s abrupt tone, but when Scoff and Pip hurried into the nook without pause, Birch fell into line behind them.

  “Are you happy?” Grave asked Charlotte, as they walked into the dark opening. Moses had crawled up his head to nestle in his hair.

  Charlotte hadn’t grown completely accustomed to Grave’s odd questions, but they no longer surprised her.

  “Yes.” She bent her head to the side to work out the crick in her neck. “They could have been hurt. Or worse.”

  Without prompting, Grave raised the lantern’s shutters. “But we’re not safe.” He said it like an answer to a question she hadn’t asked.

  Charlotte stopped to look at him. Though the bat in his hair made Grave look a bit ridiculous, his expression and bearing were otherwise solemn.

  “I would like to make you safe.”

  For the second time in a handful of minutes, Charlotte found herself uneasy with regard to Grave. She wasn’t afraid of him; she’d never been afraid of the strange boy. Nothing about Grave exuded malice or aggression. But she’d had only glimpses of who or what Grave truly was.

  His wasn’t any empty declaration. If anyone could keep Charlotte—maybe all of them—safe, it was Grave. He had strength and resilience like no one else.

  He can’t be killed.

  What troubled Charlotte about Grave was her own indecisiveness about his place among them. She didn’t object to his providing defense, but Grave could do more than that.

  He’s the perfect weapon.

  Charlotte’s skin prickled with awareness. Grave had followed her, even before Ash named her leader of their band of exiles. The dead boy, now alive by mechanics—and magic, if Meg spoke the truth—swore allegiance to Charlotte.

  And she didn’t know what to do with him. When Charlotte expected to return to the Catacombs, her assumption had been that all of them would fall into a routine not unlike those they’d followed before the revelations of the Floating City. The Catacombs would provide safety and sustenance while she waited for news from Ash . . . and Jack.

  Charlotte winced as Jack’s face flashed through her mind’s eye.

  “Is that wrong?” Grave asked, frowning at her pained expression.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. Thank you. We’ll talk more about this later.”

  Grave nodded and handed Charlotte the lantern when she held out her hand and hooked a finger toward it.

  While the half-moon of boulders protected only a hollow in the earth, the back of the hollow gave entrance to a spacious cave. It wasn’t a maze of caverns like the Catacombs, just a single sphere carved from earth and stone. The cave offered room enough for two dozen people to shelter comfortably. Thus, there was no need for the children to be clustered tight together against the far wall. Yet they were. A dozen wretched little creatures hiding in the wilds.

  More disturbing than their huddled, shivering bodies was their utter silence. They’d been told how important staying quiet was, that their lives depended on it.

  Birch had gone to the little cluster, and a few heads turned toward the new arrivals. Charlotte took in their wide eyes and gasps. One girl gave a joyful shout, then clapped her hands over her mouth in horror and looked as though she’d soon cry.

  Recognizing the butter-hued curls of the child, Charlotte went to the girl kneeling beside her. “No worries, Lucy. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Lucy murmured through her hands. “We’re not supposed to be loud. They’ll come for us if we’re loud.”

  “It is important to be quiet,” Charlotte replied. “But there’s no need to make yourself so upset over it.”

  Lucy’s eyes became hopeful and she peered past Charlotte toward the cave entrance. “Where’s Meg?”

  The question pinched at Charlotte’s heart. “Meg has her own task to attend to. She’s not with us.”

  “But she’s safe?” Lucy’s eyes were tearing up again.

  “Yes.” Charlotte had no idea if Meg’s safety could be guaranteed in the Floating City—not even in the Temple of Athene—but Lucy didn’t need to know any of that.

  Charlotte patted Lucy’s cheek and stood up when Birch came toward them.

  “We should talk,” Charlotte said to him, lowering her voice. “But away from the children.”

  Birch nodded, glancing at the little ones who now crowded around Scoff and Pip.

  Charlotte frowned at the pair. “They’re going to want to know, too.”

  “I’m sure,” Birch said. “But the young ones get anxious if I stray too far. They need the reassurance that someone watches over them. It’s been a trying journey, to say the least.”

  “If you don’t mind telling your tale twice—” Charlotte began, but Grave surprised her by interrupting.

  “I can sit with the children.”

  Charlotte’s first instinct was to laugh, but she caught the bubbling sound before it could leave her throat.

  Birch frowned at Grave. “Are you sure . . . is that a good idea?” He looked at Charlotte as he finished the question.

  “I will keep them safe,” Grave answered him. “I don’t need to know about the explosion right now. Charlotte can tell me later.”

  Without waiting for their assent, Grave waded into the cluster of children and sat among them.

  At first the little girls and boys shied away, surprised by Grave’s sudden appearance. But as Grave continued to sit very still, smiling at them all the while, the braver of the bunch ventured toward him. Wary of the children’s investigation, Moses abandoned his roost in Grave’s hair and flew back to Birch, settling on the tinker’s shoulder.

  “You came back with Charlotte and it made Ashley mad.” A boy named Rufus squinted at Grave’s thatch of dark hair. “But your hair is different.”

  “Yes, Charlotte did bring me to your home,” Grave answered. “And yes, my hair is different—it didn’t have a bat in it before.”

  A doe-eyed girl called Edith began to giggle. The other children’s tinkling laughter soon joined hers.

  But Rufus squinted at Grave. “The color is different. Why?”

  “Because I had to hide.”

  That answer drew all the children closer.

  “Why’d you have to hide?” Rufus pressed. While most of his peers had dropped to sitting positions, Rufus remained upright and wary.

  Grave hunched down and whispered to the closest children.

  “What?” Rufus frowned, but when Grave didn’t acknowledge his question, Rufus abandoned the role of skeptic and joined the others sitting around him.

  “That’s . . . odd.” Birch looked to Charlotte for reassurance.

  All she could do was shrug. “Everything about Grave is odd.”

  “Does he even like children?” Birch asked, seeming torn between the desire to intervene and relief that someone else held the attention of his recent charges.

  “I have no idea,” Charlotte said.

  “More important,” Birch continued, “do you think he’s dangerous? Did you learn anything about him in the city?”

  Charlotte hesitated. Wasn’t she the one who’d always defended Grave? Who insisted he posed no threat to them? But after all she’d witnessed, could she promise Birch that Grave was harmless?

  “Of course he’s not dangerous.” Pip had made her way from among the children and now addressed Birch in an earnest tone. “He saved me on that boat.”

  “He did . . .” The reluctance in Charlotte’s voice made her uncomfortable. Pip spoke the truth. Grave had stopped a sailor from laying hands on Pip, but his sheer power had frightened her. Standing up for Grave when Ashley held the ultimate responsibility for the strange boy’s fate gave Charlotte more bravado in her arguments that Grave should remain with th
em. Now that all of Grave’s actions were subject to her guidance, she weighed her response more carefully.

  “Yes, he did,” Pip continued, smiling brightly. “He’s so brave. Grave is brave . . . ha!”

  Scoff followed Pip to join their small conference, and caught the green-haired girl’s proclamation.

  “He seems all right,” Scoff said with a nod. “Bloody strong. I’d wager he could swing the hammer of Hephaestus himself!”

  Birch still waited for Charlotte’s affirmation.

  “It should be fine,” she said at last, and drew their group apart from Grave and the children.

  Now that the right moment had arrived for Birch to share his story, Charlotte couldn’t help but burst from her restraint.

  “By Athene, Birch, what happened?”

  Birch’s eyebrow went up at Charlotte’s abrupt change in demeanor, but she didn’t care.

  “Was it the Empire?” Charlotte asked. “How did they find you? How much was lost?”

  “It’s all gone.” Birch grimaced and shoved his hands in the pockets of his apron. “I made sure nothing would be left.”

  Charlotte knew she must have heard something wrong. “That doesn’t make any sense, Birch.”

  Birch dropped his gaze to the cave floor, kicking at the soil with the tip of his boot. “I had to.”

  “Had to do what?” Ruffled by Birch’s discomfiture, Pip hooked her arm through his elbow and tugged until he looked at her.

  “Had to do what?” Pip asked again, faith evident in her open expression as she gazed up at Birch.

  Birch smiled at her and then looked at Charlotte.

  “I’m the one who blew up the Catacombs.”

  PIP UNHOOKED HERSELF from Birch’s arm and shoved him so hard, he stumbled a few steps away.

  “Why would you say something like that?” Pip’s fists were on her hips. “It’s not funny. How could you think it would be funny?”

  Birch stared at the indignant girl, helpless to reply.

  Charlotte squared her shoulders, adopting a stoicism she didn’t truly feel. “I don’t think he’s joking, Pip. Am I right, Birch?”

  Birch nodded and Pip began to shake her head, stubborn with disbelief.

  “Why?” Charlotte’s heart banged in her chest, but she managed to retain her calm facade.

  “I thought about just blowing the entry points.” Birch fidgeted without ceasing, and spoke as though recalling a bad dream. “But there wasn’t enough time. The only option was to overload the generator. I knew that would create a blast large enough to collapse the caverns and bury anything we’d left behind.”

  Pip sat on the ground, drew her knees to chest and hid her face there. Scoff knelt beside her, putting his arm around her narrow shoulders. He looked up at Birch.

  “Obviously you had a reason for doing all this,” Scoff said. “But it would help a great deal if you’d tell us that reason.”

  Birch startled at the question. “The reason? Well, the Empire, of course.”

  “The Empire found the Catacombs?” The words felt brittle as they left Charlotte’s mouth. “When? How did you avoid capture?”

  “A warning came.” Birch frowned, pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Charlotte.

  A brief message had been scrawled on its surface.

  They’re coming for you. Get out now.

  The note was signed L.

  “I knew it couldn’t be a jest,” Birch said. “No one would send such a message—no one would know where to send a message—unless they were part of the Resistance. Whoever sent it knew we could evacuate, given enough time.”

  Scoff left Pip’s side and peered over Charlotte’s shoulder.

  “Who’s L?” Scoff asked. Charlotte didn’t protest when he grabbed for the note.

  “Lazarus,” Charlotte said quietly to no one in particular. “It must be.”

  “Did you say Lazarus?” Birch looked at Charlotte in puzzlement. “Do we know a Lazarus?”

  “Not exactly,” Charlotte answered. “Ash and Jack met him . . .”

  Charlotte words drifted away as she grasped how little she knew about Lazarus. She’d never taken the time to ask Ashley what meeting with the mysterious figure had been like. The night of that meeting, Coe’s trickery had demanded all of her attention—that was the most forgiving assessment, the least being that she had allowed her heartache to consume her, neglecting all else.

  Nonetheless, the only other L in Charlotte’s life was Linnet, and she’d been on the Aphrodite at the time of the explosion.

  “Lazarus is the leader of a rebel faction within the Empire,” Charlotte said, pushing her jumble of thoughts aside.

  Scoff scratched at the stubble on his chin. “That’s an odd name.”

  “It’s not his real name,” Charlotte said. “His identity is a secret.”

  The conversation proved interesting enough for Pip to lift her head. “A secret?”

  “He’s a high-ranking officer in the Imperial Army.” Charlotte mined her memories for anything else she could share about Lazarus. “When the time is right, Lazarus will incite a coup. Then the Resistance will join forces with Lazarus’s and seize power.”

  “Is that all?” Scoff flashed a lopsided smile at Charlotte.

  “That’s good news if I’ve ever heard it.” Birch rocked back on his bootheels. “And I’ve been in dire need of good news.”

  “I think we all have,” Charlotte replied. “I wish I could offer more.”

  Birch shook his head. “A little is better than none. I’m afraid I’ve done a poor job of supplying this sad expedition.”

  He turned and pointed at a heap of misshapen sacks near the children. “We had so little time to prepare, no time really, and the small ones could hardly carry a full load of parts.”

  “Don’t fret about it, Birch,” Charlotte said. “What matters is that you were able to escape.”

  “Yes.” Birch squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Absolutely it is,” Scoff said, nodding. “But I have to ask—”

  “No.” Birch sighed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his scorch-marked leather apron. “I had to prioritize food and weapons. I couldn’t retrieve anything from your lab. Even if I had, all those glass vials and jars of powders . . . I doubt we could have transported it without breaking everything along the way.”

  Scoff shrugged. “Tragic, but I’ll make do. Starting over will be an adventure.”

  He gave one of Pip’s pigtails a tug. “Besides, all I need is my trusty assistant. You’re up for more experiments, aren’t you?”

  Pip brightened for the first time since they’d left the Aphrodite. “Of course!”

  “We’ll all be starting over,” Birch said. “But there was no helping it.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes when she felt a hot sting begin to well up. Their home was gone. Not just abandoned, but destroyed. There would be no return to the Catacombs.

  “So the question now is where we’ll be starting over?” Scoff asked.

  Though she tried to fight them back, a few tears slipped down Charlotte’s cheeks. “Yes.”

  “Have you decided where we should go?” Pip asked Charlotte.

  Until now, Charlotte’s only thought had been to get to the rendezvous point, but there was no denying the urgency of finding an answer to Scoff’s question. This cave served its purpose—it had never been intended to offer shelter for more than a night or two.

  Charlotte looked at the cluster of small children. One of the youngest had crawled onto Grave’s lap and fallen asleep. Grave sat still, a sentinel over his new charges.

  “We have to find a place for them to be cared for,” Charlotte said. “They won’t be able to make the journey with us.”


  “What journey?” Birch frowned.

  “The mandated evacuation route,” Charlotte told him. “To New Orleans.”

  Pip gasped. “We’re going to join the Resistance? Holy Hephaestus.” Her eyes went wide with excitement.

  Pip’s enthusiasm had always been a source of amusement, but Charlotte now found the girl’s exclamations and unpredictable, careening moods more irksome than gears badly in need of oiling.

  She has yet to reach her fourteenth year, Charlotte reminded herself. She’s only acting the way a child grasping at maturity is like to do, swinging from thoughtful to impulsive without warning. She needs patience and kindness, not reprimands.

  “Can we do that?” Scoff asked, sharing none of Pip’s enthusiasm.

  “It’s what we’re meant to do in a situation . . . well, exactly the situation we’re in.” Charlotte welcomed his brusque tone, hoping Scoff’s sobriety might be an example to Pip.

  “That’s a long trip.” Birch glanced at the pile of sacks. “Costly, too. I don’t know how far bartering that lot will take us.”

  Looking at the haphazard bulges and swells that constituted their belongings, Charlotte shared Birch’s doubts. She’d never undertaken a journey such as that she’d just proposed. What it would cost, the specific threats they could encounter, how they would be received upon reaching New Orleans—of all these things, these pivotal factors, Charlotte knew little to nothing.

  “Trading will take us as far as it can,” Charlotte said. “And then we’ll make do. We shouldn’t have to use much until we get to Moirai, in any case.”

  Her answer satisfied Scoff, but Birch twitched with nervous reluctance.

  “Scoff and Pip.” Charlotte gestured toward Grave and the children. “Give them food and water and tell them to sleep now, because we can only afford to wait here a few hours.”

  Birch offered Charlotte a measure of respect by waiting for Scoff and Pip to leave before he questioned her, though he was shifting his weight so frequently from one foot to another that he was almost hopping.

  “You want us to travel at night, then?” Birch spoke in a tone that Charlotte hoped was anxious, rather than horrified.