“See you at seven,” she said, trying to sound confident and in control. “With Ross.”
She headed to Deirdre’s room and knocked on the door. “Ross?”
No answer.
“Ross, I need to talk to you.” It was humiliating to have to shout through the door at a prisoner. If Ross made her walk in, he would have won this small battle of wills. And the guards would see her lose.
She knocked once more. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in.”
No answer. In three days, there had never been any answer. Fine. She’d let him win this battle. Once she got inside, she’d win the war.
Kerry went in.
Ross sat in a corner, his head resting on his knees, his face hidden. She wondered if it would seem more powerful to stand over him, as if he were a child, or if she should sit on the bed, as if she didn’t particularly care about the outcome. She decided to loom.
“Ross, you’ve got to eat something. You must be starving.”
He didn’t move.
He’d cooperated, more or less, till Min Soo had Changed Luis. Sure, it had been bloody, even frightening. But nothing had happened to warrant shutting himself in a room for days, refusing to eat or speak. It seemed cowardly. Weak.
She’d seen how frightened he was of enclosed spaces, and heard the patrol captain’s report about him crying by himself beside the wall. Yet he’d escaped the scout team and evaded them all day, alone in the desert. Blind! He’d fought at Las Anclas, and used his Change power to kill thirty of Father’s elite soldiers. When she’d sparred with him, he’d seemed fearless. Disabled hand and all, Ross was a better fighter than Santiago, and Santiago had won division medals.
Father said that the key to true power was understanding other people. How could she exert true power over someone she didn’t understand?
She’d start with basic power: the threat of force. “You have to come out sometime. It may as well be now. Do you want to sit here, starving, for three more days, and then be dragged out and forced to eat?”
His right hand clenched, just enough to whiten his knuckles. Ah. Threats were good.
“Three things are going to happen,” Kerry said. “You are going to get up. You are going to eat breakfast. And you are going to ride with Father and me to the ruined city.”
“No, I won’t.” He was barely audible.
“Yes, you will,” Kerry said. “It’s happening whether you cooperate or not. If you won’t get up, I’ll have the guards drag you up. If you won’t eat, they’ll pin you down and cram food down your throat. And if you won’t ride by yourself, they’ll tie you up and throw you over the horse.”
“Let them.”
She could hear the effort it took for him to speak, and felt defeated by him again. He’d maneuvered her into making threats that she didn’t want to carry out. Before he’d made those ridiculous accusations about Father turning people into singing trees, she’d liked Ross a bit. He was a great sparring partner. In a way, she even respected him for sticking it out for three days.
But Father had given her orders.
She crouched down. “You’re not the first person to try this. I was serious about the force-feeding. It’s painful and humiliating. And dangerous. You could choke. But Father told me to have you ready by seven, and it’s already after six.”
She sat on the bed, which didn’t seem to have been slept in. She counted slowly to three, then to five. Then she sighed aloud and stood, making sure the bed springs squeaked. If that didn’t get him, she’d call the guards.
Ross dropped his hands to the floor and lifted his head.
He looked awful, ashen and drawn. She’d won, but it wasn’t the satisfying victory she’d expected. It was more of a relief.
“We’ve got scrambled eggs,” she said. “I know you like those.”
“If you eat rich food after you’ve had nothing in days, it makes you sick. I’ll just have some bread.” Ross was obviously speaking from past experience. Kerry didn’t know why, but that made her feel off-balance, as if she’d missed a step in the dark.
She escorted him to the royal dining room, where he took a piece of toast. She slid some bacon on to his plate, but he ignored it and her. As he slowly ate half a piece of toast, she couldn’t help wondering how often he’d gone without food for days on end. She felt vaguely guilty, which made no sense. She hadn’t starved him; she was trying to get him to eat.
The uncomfortable sense that she’d stepped wrong turned to triumph when he took one bite of bacon. She could barely see his downcast face, but his color looked a bit better.
I won, she repeated to herself. I’m stronger than Ross. It’s exactly like Father said.
As they headed outside, she racked her mind for something, anything to talk about. Nothing came to mind.
To her immense relief, Santiago was waiting. “Hi, Kerry. Hi, Ross.”
“Morning, Santiago.” Kerry wished she could steal a kiss. But it seemed best to keep Ross between them. “How’s the collarbone?”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Santiago said absently, as they headed for the palace garrison. His attention was fixed on Ross. “I’m still on liberty, but the sling comes off next week. Not a moment too soon! Yesterday I made the mistake of telling my mother I was bored, so she put me in charge of the Brat Patrol.”
“No!” Kerry said, laughing. Now that Santiago was here she could at least pretend Ross was part of the conversation. “The Brat Patrol is what we call Santiago’s cousins, baby brother and sister, and nephews and nieces. There’s seven of them under the age of six, so they’re not in school yet.”
“They’re underfoot.” Santiago pretended to shake a little kid off his leg. “My baby cousin, Maria-Elena, decided to make a mud pie. Which would have been fine, except she took out the bread out of the oven while it was still doughy and substituted the pie . . ..”
At the palace garrison, guards readied the horses, checking cinches and bridles and packs. Her father’s silver hair shone in the crowd.
The guards backed away, saluting Kerry. She smiled at them. Min Soo harped far too much on politeness, but she was right that if you were pleasant to the people you ruled, they went away happy. A glance at Father made it clear he had seen and appreciated. She basked in his approval.
He took out his gold pocket watch, clicked it open, and smiled. “Six forty-six. Excellent.” He turned his smile to the boys. “Good morning, Ross.”
Ross’s shoulders jerked up and his head dropped. Kerry wanted to smack him. That wasn’t how you acted around a king.
“Ross, if you’re that unhappy, tell me what we can do to improve your stay.” Father said gently. “Is it loneliness that troubles you? I’d be happy to send a team to fetch your girlfriend.”
Why didn’t I think of that? Kerry thought.
Rather than looking gratified, Ross stiffened as if Kerry had jabbed him with one of her invisible knives. Steel scraped as he clenched his left hand, and his knuckles paled at his right.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he told the ground.
“We’ll have to find you one, then,” Father said, laughing. “Mount up.” He swung onto Coronet, his magnificent silver stallion.
Kerry mounted her own stallion, Nugget. He tossed his head, sending his glittering mane flying, like strands of spun gold. She hoped he wasn’t in one of his ornery moods. That was the trouble with stallions: you kept having to remind them who was in charge. But he settled down when she stroked his neck.
“I picked Sally for you,” Santiago said to Ross. “You seemed to get along with her. My Aunt Maria-Luisa bred her. She let me watch the birth—well, it wasn’t so much that I wanted to watch, as she needed someone to fetch buckets of hot water. But it’s pretty amazing to watch a foal take its first breath, and to hear it and its mother whicker at each other.”
Though Santiago was presumably talking to Ross, he wasn’t watching him. Instead, he glanced toward Father as if to say, ‘Am I doing it right?’
&n
bsp; Father nodded in approval, then rode past to take his position at the head of the column. Santiago rode up beside Ross, leaving Kerry behind. With no introduction whatsoever, Santiago launched into a long tale about the time Bankar had carved soap and coated it in sugar, then swapped it for real sugar skulls on Day of the Dead. Santiago’s younger brother Diego had retaliated by filling her sleeping bag with slugs on a class overnight trip . . . back when they were all ten and eleven.
Father had clearly ordered Santiago to befriend Ross, but Santiago was trying too hard. He should start up a real conversation, giving Ross plenty of chances to respond, not keep up a constant stream of random anecdotes. And why this obsession with stories about family members Ross had never met? Ross couldn’t possibly be interested.
Kerry tried to indicate to Santiago that he was doing it wrong, but he gave her a quick shake of the head, then continued telling Ross about his cousin Maria-Luz’s elaborate plans for her upcoming quinceañera.
Irritated, Kerry gave up. If Santiago was that set on boring Ross to death, she would leave him to it.
She caught up with Father and the guard captain. Father gave her a smile, but continued his conversation with the captain about taking pre-emptive action to crush signs of incipient rebellion at Lake Perris. To her disappointment, he said nothing about his orders to Santiago.
The evergreens were the only spots of color in the bright air. She resigned herself to a dull ride. When they finally stopped for lunch, she dismounted and threw her reins to a waiting cadet, then set out in search of Santiago.
He was still babbling, his voice as husky as if he’d been talking nonstop for the entire time.
“. . . and that was when my youngest sibling was born. But we couldn’t agree on a name, so my mother had everyone put their favorite name on a piece of paper, and we held a lottery. She drew Maria-Delia’s paper: San Ramon-Nonato, the patron saint of children. But we just call him Ramon. There’s four of us now—isn’t that lucky? What about you, Ross? Do you have any siblings?”
He took a swig from his canteen, obviously not expecting any answer.
Now that she saw him, Kerry was no longer annoyed. Instead, she wanted to laugh. What a horrible morning he must have had!
“I don’t know,” Ross began.
Water spilled down Santiago’s chest. As he gazed at Ross in surprise, Ross hastily backtracked. “I mean, no. Everyone’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Santiago said.
Kerry was amazed that Ross had actually spoken. “Where were you born?”
Up came the shoulders in a shrug. Kerry bit back a sigh of exasperation. She and Santiago waited hopefully, but Ross had his arms crossed, his mouth tight. He was clearly done speaking for the hour. The day, the month, probably the year.
Kerry’s annoyance returned. Father had loaned Ross a royal steed, housed him in the palace, even dressed him in the royal colors, and his response was to act like a spoiled, ungrateful brat.
Father’s voice made her jump. “Don’t bother with the chow line, Santiago. A cadet is bringing us our lunch.”
“Thank you, sir,” Santiago said.
Cadets put up a canopy to give them some shade. Father stepped into the protection of two huge boulders before he shooed away his bodyguards. He sat on a flat rock as large as a table, and gestured for them to join him.
Santiago usually came straight to her, but this time he waited for Ross to sit, then dropped down beside him. So Kerry moved to Ross’s other side.
Father nodded approvingly at her, past Ross’s bowed head. “About that power of yours, Ross.”
Ross flinched, his arms tightening across his chest.
Father went on, “I understand that you can walk right up to those singing trees and put your hand on them. Have you ever tried picking a seed-pod? Imagine what a weapon that would make.”
Ross lifted his head and looked directly into Kerry’s eyes. He spent so much time avoiding eye contact that his gaze was like a slap in the face. She knew he was remembering that awful thing he’d said about Father killing his own people with singing trees. Could that have actually been true?
The moment stretched out horribly. Then Ross stared down at his hands. “They break if you touch them.”
“We shall experiment with that,” Father said.
Kerry glanced away. She was afraid that if Ross looked at her again, her face might betray her. She had never told Father about that conversation on Opportunity Day.
A clink of metal told her that Father had picked up his utensils. “We’ll talk more at sunset, when we reach the ruined city. And the singing trees.”
Chapter Eighteen. Gold Point.
Yuki
Yuki watched in amazement as Mr. Vilas transformed himself into the most unthreatening person in existence. All he did was take off his coat and hat, put on a wool sweater and a pair of glasses, and stoop a little. Then he collapsed his staff and hid it in a basket of carrot tops that he’d picked when he’d slipped over the Gold Point wall to make a quick scouting foray.
Mr. Vilas said, “If anyone looks at you, just keep walking as if you have somewhere to go.”
Jennie had unbraided her hair so her beads wouldn’t click, and folded two of their blankets to carry. Yuki took two carrot tops to stick out of the backpack that concealed his sword.
“Ready?” Jennie asked.
Mr. Vilas nodded along with the rest of them. Yuki had spent the trip waiting for the former bounty hunter to attempt to usurp Jennie’s leadership. But to Yuki’s relief, all he’d done was guide them and scout. He’d even gone hunting for them.
They’d surveyed the dam and power plant from a distance, but each was guarded by at least a company of soldiers. Brisa had been left to guard the horses and Kogatana on the other side of the Joshua Tree Forest. Now the real mission would begin.
Indra put his hand on his machete. “If I hear a commotion, do you want me to fall back or come help?”
“See what’s going on if you can evade detection,” said Jennie. “Otherwise, fall back to Brisa.”
Indra didn’t look happy with that. The Rangers never left anyone behind.
“If we get captured, we need you both free to rescue us,” Jennie pointed out.
Mr. Vilas gave a short nod. Yuki suspected that if they were captured, the bounty hunter had a plan for saving his own skin, never mind the rest of them.
Jennie turned to Mr. Vilas. “Over to you.”
“Like I said,” Mr. Vilas said. “This wall is near the palace and the south garrison. Fewer sentries here, but that’s because of the heavy defenses of the garrison and the palace. We’re moving directly into danger. Don’t let down your guard.”
Everyone nodded.
“The palace farm is beyond this wall. We head straight east till we hit the ‘guest quarters’ where Voske keeps his important prisoners. Quietly take out the guards.”
“I’ve got rope,” Yuki whispered.
“No rope. Slit their throats.” Mr. Vilas seemed to sense Yuki’s sickened reaction. “It’ll be more merciful than Voske will be. The guards get flogged if a prisoner escapes. Losing an important prisoner means flogged to death.”
No one spoke. Yuki had been prepared to kill in battle. He’d done so before. But in cold blood, by stealth . . .
I abandoned Ross, he reminded himself. I left him and ran. I have to do whatever it takes to rescue him.
“We get Ross, and come straight back,” Mr. Vilas concluded. “If we’re fast and quiet, we’ll be gone by midnight.”
He turned to the stone wall, which towered ten feet higher than the walls of Las Anclas. Mr. Vilas had said earlier, “Five years ago, we couldn’t have gotten over the wall anywhere. But Voske is fighting on three fronts, not counting Las Anclas, and he’s constantly in need of soldiers. So sentries are thin on this particular stretch of the west wall.”
Yuki was sure that any invasion coming over the wall would be annihilated in minutes. But Gold Point apparently assumed that
no one would infiltrate so close to the palace and the garrison. Maybe no one had ever dared. Or . . .
Mr. Vilas went on, “Just stay away from the towers and watch the timing of the sentries.”
Yuki couldn’t help wondering if Voske’s spy device had been watching them the entire time. The instant they climbed the wall, they might be met by a hundred soldiers. It was far too easy to imagine Mr. Vilas leading them into a trap.
Yuki had never trusted the bounty hunter, who captured or killed people for money. That distrust had strengthened after Jennie told Yuki, Brisa, and Indra about Mr. Preston’s secret orders. Not only did Yuki have to watch for enemies, he had to be ready to stop one of his own teammates from assassinating the person they were supposed to rescue!
As Mr. Vilas swung up the padded grappling hook, Yuki watched him for a signal to the enemy. The Ranger candidates had done plenty of rappelling, and though the healing scar on his back pulled and stung, he had no trouble climbing the wall. What he wasn’t prepared for was his first glimpse of Voske’s city.
The city below lay in a shallow bowl, glittering like a night sky spread out along the ground. The houses had electric lights. The streets had electric lights. Golden light streamed from every window of the palace.
It reminded Yuki sharply of the floating city he’d been meant to inherit, before it had been taken by pirates and he’d been cast adrift. The Taka too had been lit like the Milky Way. The name came to him in Japanese, his mother tongue: Ama no Gawa, the River of Heaven.
Jennie elbowed him in the side, and he dropped down swiftly. They followed Mr. Vilas through the darkened orchards.
Yuki’s thoughts circled back to Ross’s kidnapping. If Yuki had done better, they wouldn’t be here now: if he’d woken up faster, if he’d grabbed his crossbow instead of his sword, if he’d spotted the attackers sneaking up behind them.
If he hadn’t left Ross behind. He’d thought he was saving Mia’s life. Instead, Mia had saved his life, dragging him through the desert after he’d collapsed from loss of blood.
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