"Trust me," said Chase.
"Trust you? You're a liar, Errand," Sky hissed. "You've been right in front of me this whole time and you didn't say a word."
"And you're not a liar? Pots and kettles, Sky, pots and kettles," Errand replied. "Now drink up."
Sky glowered, but Errand, or Chase, or whoever he was, was right. He'd been no more honest than Errand, and no more trusting. Besides, whatever was in the vial wasn't likely to put him in a worse situation. Probably.
"Fine," Sky muttered. When no one was watching, Sky drank it down. Surprisingly, it tasted sweet, like honey.
"Tell me when your skin starts drooping," said Errand.
"Wait-what?" Sky grabbed his skin and pulled, stretching it much further than should've been possible. "You gave me Slippery Wick Brew?"
Errand glanced over. "Hmm . . . might've put too much dung in it. Good enough, I suppose." He raised his voice. "Crenshaw, I need your help here!"
Sky saw that Crenshaw and the other hunters had moved closer to the manor to watch Morton's approach.
Crenshaw came over, but he didn't look happy about it. "What?"
"I found this on our boy," said Errand, holding up another vial. "You're a smart one-any idea what we've got?"
Crenshaw took the vial from Errand. Their hands touched. "Ow. What was-"
Errand caught Crenshaw under the arms before he could fall and, on Errand's finger, Sky saw a small ring holding a Dovetail thorn.
"Concentrated Dovetail," said Errand, shuffling Crenshaw behind a tree, where he dropped him. "Learned that trick from the Shadow Man."
"You call him that, too, huh? The man who Changed us?" asked Sky.
"What else is there to call him? We've no idea who he is," said Errand. "I've searched everywhere, Sky. Not even Bedlam knows who the Shadow Man is. Only Solomon knows."
"You don't still believe that, do you?" asked Sky.
"He wasn't lying, Sky-not about that," said Errand. "He knows."
"Are you really working with Phineas and laying a double bogey?" Sky asked. "Or have you decided to team up with Morton to free Solomon, even after all the trouble we went through to lock him up?"
"You're the one who became Morton's apprentice, as I recall," Errand countered.
"Whose side are you on, Errand? Be straight with me for once."
“I'm on our side," said Errand.
"I wasn't aware we had a side," Sky retorted. He glanced at his hand. "Why am I all saggy?"
"The brew might need some adjustments-! was in a hurry." Errand stretched his own hand and Sky saw the skin peel back, revealing Errand's marks underneath.
"You have to fold the skin just right to hide it," Errand continued. "Phineas taught me that trick."
''I'll bet he did," said Sky bitterly.
Errand grabbed Sky's face. "Try not to cry-I need to make a few adjustments to your fat."
Sky felt his skin slide this way and that. It hurt. "So do I look like you now?"
"You look like him," said Errand, pointing at Crenshaw. "And he looks like you. Now, put on his clothes while I fix him up." Sky stripped down to his boxers and put on Crenshaw's clothes, tossing his shredded cloak to Errand. He paused at Phineas’ old coat.
"Come on, the coat, too," said Errand, holding out his hand. "You can wear Crenshaw's, just empty the pockets."
"It's not the same," said Sky, moving his Tin and a few canisters to the new coat. He paused as he pulled out the seed and note they'd retrieved from the bowling alley.
"What's that?" Errand asked.
"I'm not sure . . . ," Sky replied, thinking. He added the seed and note to his new coat and put it on. "How do I look?" "Like a little girl trying on her daddy's clothes," said Errand, putting Sky's old coat on Crenshaw. "Roll up the cuffs and sleeves. Hopefully they won't notice what a scrawny git you are."
"Thanks," said Sky drily. "And you can drop the accent around me."
"Believable, right?" said Errand in his normal voice, which is to say he sounded exactly like Sky, even though he still looked like Chase. "I spent a few weeks in South London practicing."
"I don't know ... ,"said Sky. "You sound more Australian to me."
"Shows what you know. The European hunters find my accent very believable. They haven't said a word."
"That's probably because they think you're Australian," Sky observed.
"Just shut up and grab his legs," Errand replied tartly.
Sky grabbed Crenshaw's legs, and together they carried him out from behind the tree.
"What are you two doing?" a girl demanded before they had taken two steps. She glanced at Crenshaw, who, Sky noted, really did look like him now. If Crenshaw wasn't several inches taller than him, and several muscles larger, they could've passed as twins.
"Our boy was causing trouble-had to give him what for," Errand supplied, switching back into his faux British-Australian accent and dropping Crenshaw's arms so that his head banged against the ground.
Before the girl could respond, thunder cracked and a swirling ball of crackling energy rolled out of the manor, knocking them all to the ground.
Morton's hunters jumped to their feet, cheering as the monsters around them-the ones that couldn't burrow, jump, fly, or climb, and therefore couldn't escape the prison last year-began to twitch and wake up.
Sky and Errand glanced around uneasily as they crawled back to their feet.
"Great. Excellent," said Errand drily. "Most glorious."
Sky didn't say anything. Accents and imitation weren't really his thing, not to mention that he· had nothing to say. In a few minutes Solomon Rose would escape, Malvidia and her hunters would retreat, Crystal would die, and Bedlam's army would burn Exile to the ground.
"Well, ah, we should be heading out, I suppose," said Errand as he and Sky backed away.
The girl turned to look at them again.
"You blokes watch him till we get back," Errand commanded, pointing at Crenshaw. "We've got important things to do. Understand?"
The girl frowned. "What important things?"
"Morton wanted us to come and find him," said Errand. The earth rumbled, and the Gossymer carrying Morton and Ambrosia shot out of the ground. "And there he is," said Errand.
Morton shook the dirt from his clothes and hair. "What happened to my apprentice?" he asked, staring down at Crenshaw. "These two gave him what for," said the girl, pointing at Sky and Errand.
Morton stopped dusting himself off and looked at them. "We sure did," said Errand. "The ratter tried to escape." Morton nodded, apparently accepting the story. "Put him up here-and you lot follow us."
Sky and Errand slung Crenshaw in front of Ambrosia on the Gossymer and it darted forward, racing into the heart of the awakening monsters.
Sky and Errand had no other choice but to follow.
Chapter 30: A Tangled Web Unwoven
Solomon Rose stood alone and unmoving in a forest of fallen trees. He looked like Sky remembered from earlier—like an Echo—with leathery black wings spread out and branchy arms raised. White gobbets of eye clung to Solomon’s lacerated trunk, and his mouth was open wide so that Sky could see the Eye of Legend staring out at him through the darkness.
As they approached, Sky saw lightning strike Solomon's upheld branches.
Solomon shivered. Then his branches swept down and he let out a terrible roar that shook Sky to his bones.
The roar turned into a bellow and Solomon thrashed around, clawing at his eyes. One of his branches swept over Morton's small group, and he stopped. "Who is there?" Solomon rumbled. "What year is this?"
The question surprised Sky, but then he remembered that only Errand had been able to edgewalk outside the prison, and then only because of his unique link with Sky. Without Errand, Solomon would have been completely cut off from the world.
"The year of your freedom, and the year of our reconciliation, Solomon Rose," said Morton, sliding off the Gossymer and approaching Solomon.
Sky glanced at Ambrosia and sa
w her stiffen. Did she believe him now? She had come expecting to free her father, the Arkhon, and instead she'd found his usurper, just as Sky had told her.
Solomon growled, low and deep. "That is a dangerous name, even from you, Morton Thresher."
"So it's true? When this boy," Morton gestured at Chase, "fed me this fanciful tale about the legendary Solomon Rose, my former apprentice, dwelling in the Arkhon's body, I had to admit to a bit of skepticism. But it's really you in there, isn't it?"
Solomon laughed, and it shook Sky like thunder. "Now you believe? Have you come to kill me then, master?"
"Of course not!" Morton snarled. "All these years, Solomon, I could've helped you! When Alexander brought your body to the Academy, everyone thought you dead by the Arkhon's hands. And I thought you dead by Alexander's cowardice. I stabbed him through the neck with his own blade."
"Did you really?" Solomon chuckled, sounding quite amused.
"Yes . . . ," said Morton slowly. "We've brought you something."
Morton signaled, and Ambrosia slid off the Gossymer with Crenshaw in her arms. As she did, Crenshaw's arm popped out, dangling to the side. Ambrosia glanced down and stopped. Her eyes lifted to meet Sky's: Crenshaw didn't have any marks on his palm.
She knew.
Sky's heart beat pitter-pat. If she gave him up, he and Errand would be toast.
Then Ambrosia did something entirely unexpected: She grabbed Crenshaw's arm and tucked it against her so the hand was hidden. Ambrosia nodded once at Sky, and then walked off to join Morton.
"Excellent!" Morton exclaimed, turning back to Solomon. "I believe you are familiar with Sky Weathers?"
Solomon hissed, his branchy arms reaching greedily for Crenshaw. Ambrosia pivoted her body, stopping him.
"For four hundred years I've struggled to keep you free and help you, like a good daughter. I've honored you despite your mistakes and cruelty. You told me you lied to the hunters, that you told them you were Solomon to taunt them. But you lied to me. I am not your daughter," Ambrosia spat. "Does my father live?"
Solomon lowered his useless eyes as if to stare into Ambrosia's. Sky knew Solomon couldn't see, not with his eyes, at any rate, but his branchy arms were every bit as sensitive, if not more so.
"You have known me longer than you knew him, Ambrosia," Solomon rumbled. "We have passed through darkness and glory and ruin together, you and I. Have I not been like a father to you?"
"DOES HE LIVE?" Ambrosia screamed.
Solomon growled. "No. I do not believe he does."
Ambrosia's head dropped, and when she looked up again, Sky saw tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Solomon. That is all I needed to know."
She offered Crenshaw to Solomon again.
Solomon paused, as if considering, and then his branchy arms wrapped around Crenshaw.
Sky glanced at Errand, wondering what to do. Crenshaw was a despicable jerk, but they couldn't just allow Solomon to kill him. "We've got to stop him," Sky whispered.
"Relax," Errand whispered back. "Solomon needs one of us. He won't hurt Crenshaw ... much."
Solomon roared. Sky jerked his head around and saw Crenshaw lying on the ground and Ambrosia hanging from one of Solomon's arms by her teeth. Solomon flipped his arm and sent Ambrosia flying. She crashed to the ground among the fallen trees, lying motionless.
"Ungrateful spawn!" Solomon rumbled.
"Not spawn you have to worry about, fortunately," said Morton. "You have the boy, and soon you can reclaim what is rightfully yours. You are a hero! The Hunters of Legend will rejoice at your return!"
Morton's hunters cheered at his words. "Yes ... a hero...," Solomon rumbled.
Sky nearly gave himself away, he was so mad. Solomon was no hero. He was a power-hungry vulture of the worst kind.
"It's time to depart," said Morton.
Solomon rumbled in agreement and reached for Crenshaw again, but as his arms slithered around him, he hesitated. "Morton, what is this?"
Crenshaw's arm had flopped out at a weird angle, clearly showing the absence of the marks.
"Oh, crap," Sky whispered.
Morton knelt down. The skin on his palm peeled back, and Sky saw the Eye of Legend. Black veins spread through Morton's skin, turning his entire hand midnight blue. He tapped several spots on Crenshaw's face. The spots turned black and Crenshaw's skin drooped, cascading down in huge wrinkly waves.
"Double crap," said Errand.
''That's not going to happen to us, is it?" Sky hissed quietly, staring at Crenshaw's flabby waves of flesh.
"Not if we die first," Errand whispered back.
Morton turned suspicious eyes on them and squeezed the pommel of his cane. The black casing folded up to become the crosspiece, revealing the shimmering blade beneath.
"You gave him what for, eh?" said Morton walking slowly toward them as they backed away.
"That we did," said Errand. "Just look at the fellow." "Knocked the marks right off of him, I see," said Morton, holding the shimmering blade casually at his side. "And what about you, Crenshaw, did you give him what for?"
"Jolly right, I did," said Sky, doing a horrible imitation of Crenshaw's voice and adding the British accent for no apparent reason.
The Gossymer scuttled behind Sky and Errand, blocking their retreat, and Morton came to a stop right in front of them. He tapped both of their faces, not with his hand, but with his shimmering blade, filling it with darkness. Their skin sagged horribly, and then slapped back into place with a smacking sound.
Their disguises were gone, and they were now identical.
"Changelings," Morton sneered.
Solomon laughed. "Surprise."
At that moment Phineas exploded out of the ground, knocking Sky and Errand one way and Morton the other.
Phineas-still posing as Winston Snavely-landed and pointed his blade at Morton.
The grove went silent.
Phineas started to cough, choking on the dust. "One minute," Phineas wheezed, holding up his index finger-the universal sign for "give me a minute."
Morton used the break to scurry away. The Gossymer and Morton's hunters joined him as he hid beneath Solomon Rose's protective branches.
Solomon laughed, a deep belly chuckle that shook the dead grove. "Don't worry, Morton, I will protect you."
"You could've had him," Errand hissed, dusting himself off as he and Sky stood. Sky pulled on his skin, and when it snapped back into place quite normally, he sighed in relief.
"I'm sorry-was my entrance not dramatic enough for you?" Phineas coughed. "I can go back and try it again, if you like."
"Winston, your timing is most unfortunate," said Morton, unaware of Phineas’ disguise.
Phineas held up his index finger again, hacked, lowered the finger, hacked again, raised it, raised it, almost hacked, and then stood and composed himself, lowering the finger entirely. "Morton," Phineas coughed. "Sorry I'm late for the party. I had a detour that couldn't be helped."
"You shouldn't have come, Winston. We have no quarrel."
"Bully that," Phineas spat. "You killed my son."
Morton's eyes went wide, and for the first time Sky saw true fear on his face.
"Phineas...,"said Morton, sounding terrified.
Phineas’ face drooped and then slapped back into place. And where Winston Snavely had stood, Sky saw Phineas T. Pimiscule.
"You've hidden behind the Hunters of Legend for four hundred years, Morton, but you've stuck your neck out too far this time," Phineas snarled.
"In all fairness," said Morton, regaining his composure, "Alexander was your adopted son. His untimely death was hardly worth ruining a friendship over."
"Untimely? You stabbed a sword through his neck!" Phineas exclaimed.
"Not in a way that could be proved," said Morton. Solomon started laughing. "Ah, Alexander, my brother, you've trapped us all!" Solomon laughed and laughed.
"It appears that it's time for us to depart," said Morton, stepping closer to Solomon.
&
nbsp; "I'm not leaving without what I came for," Solomon rum bled, his useless eyes turning on Sky and Errand. "The Hunter's Mark is mine."
"By all means, Solomon," said Phineas. "Don't let me stand in your way."
"Patience, Solomon," said Morton, eyeing Phineas warily. "They will come to us in time."
Solomon grumbled.
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