Drift counted off on her fingers. “Oh, only because you’re amazing, talented, and usually too shy to come with me to his shop, so he’s hoping to coax you in more often with a bribe,” she said cheerfully.
And what a bribe it was. Shroom bun pastries were little works of art, famous in Regara, but also expensive and time-consuming to make. One half of the pastry was a warm roll with fruit baked into its narrow stem, while the top was a fluffy disc fashioned in the shape of a mushroom cap and dusted all over with powdered sugar.
Rook’s mouth watered uncontrollably, but she resisted the urge to wolf down the gift. Food like this was precious. It would have been a crime to devour it—it needed to be saved, carefully wrapped, and measured out later to last for as many days as possible.
But it smelled so good and so fresh that it almost made Rook cry.
Drift smiled encouragement. “It’s okay,” she said. “Take a big bite now, while it’s still warm, and we’ll wrap up the rest for later. Maybe it’ll even give you some courage.”
“Courage?” Rook said skeptically.
“Blueberry-flavored courage—the strongest kind,” Drift assured her with a grin. “I had a bite of mine, and let me tell you, it’s an explosion of happiness. Just…boom.” She threw up her hands for emphasis.
Rook chuckled, and a tiny sliver of her worry faded away. She bit into the pastry and closed her eyes while she savored the sweet tang of blueberries filling her mouth. Warm, sugar-dusted, delicious.
When she opened her eyes, Drift was still grinning at her. “Boom,” she whispered.
“Boom,” Rook agreed.
With a wistful sigh, she rewrapped the pastry and tucked it carefully into her pocket. Another bite for later, she promised herself; a reward after this long night was all over.
A hush fell over the alley. The only sound came from an old Regaran sky fleet poster flapping in the breeze above her head, alongside a Wanted sign for world-famous sky pirates. Faded sketches of Red Danna, Merry Teagan, and Gerheart Blake stared defiantly across the alley. As far as Rook knew, none of the outlaws had been seen in over two years, not since the Great Catastrophe.
Drift, never one to stay still for long, stood up and began to pace, keeping watch all the while. A handful of people walked by the mouth of the alley, but Rook wasn’t particularly worried about being seen. She and Drift were well hidden in the darkness behind a stack of old crates and trash barrels, and besides, no one lingered on the backstreets of Gray Town at night.
But Drift wasn’t just watching for the clients, Rook knew. She marked each passerby to make sure they weren’t wearing the gold-and-black uniforms of the Regaran constables—or the armbands of the Red Watchers. Technically, the Watchers were a citizens’ group, formed in the wake of the Great Catastrophe, so they had no official authority. But they were notoriously good at hunting down exiles and turning them in to the constables, so no one complained. Once captured, the exiles disappeared, their fates unknown. The Watchers also had a reputation for being not so gentle with the exiles they caught. Point was, you didn’t want to meet them in a back alley like this. You just didn’t.
Minutes passed, and Rook began to fidget. Patience was not one of her strongest traits. “They should have come by now,” she muttered.
Drift heard her but waved her off with a smile. “They’re probably just taking their time, being extra cautious,” she said. “That’s a good thing for all of us.”
Unless they’d been caught by the constables and were now leading them straight to this alley, Rook thought. By reflex, she tensed, ready to run if necessary.
Just then, movement at the mouth of the alley caught Rook’s eye. Three figures were coming toward them, pressing close to the wall so they were hidden in shadow, just as Rook and Drift were.
A fourth knot, larger and heavier than the others, snapped tight in Rook’s stomach. “There are three of them,” she whispered to Drift, who’d come to stand beside her. “There were only supposed to be two.”
This had never happened before. Mr. Baroman always gave them detailed descriptions of who they’d be meeting and how many people would be present so there were no surprises.
Rook plunged a hand into her pocket for her chalk, her mind fixed on the need to escape. One of the figures approaching might easily be a constable or a Red Watcher. She and Drift might have walked right into a trap.
“GET READY,” DRIFT WHISPERED TO Rook. Wind swirled through the alley, stirring bits of trash into mini cyclones at her feet. “Stand near the wall so you can draw a quick escape door if there’s trouble. Whatever happens, get back to the roost.”
“Not without you,” Rook said.
For the first time that night, a scowl found its way onto Drift’s serene face. “We don’t have time to argue, Rook. We may have to split up.”
Rook never bothered replying to nonsense. She just raised an eyebrow at her friend. Drift must have gotten the message, because she said, “Have it your way. Now stop looking at me like you bit into a lemon.”
The strangers arrived.
In front was an old man with patched trousers who walked with a noticeable limp, his left foot turned inward. A teenage boy kept pace beside him with one arm held out, not quite supporting the man, but keeping close by in case he stumbled. Behind him came a middle-aged woman with a worn-out look in her eyes and a faint scar down the center of her left cheek.
Rook watched the scarred woman nervously. She was the one who wasn’t supposed to be here. The old man and the boy at least matched the descriptions Mr. Baroman had given Drift. He’d said they were a small family, a grandfather and grandson—the Kelmins. They’d lived in Gray Town all their lives, but after the Great Catastrophe, both the Kelmins had lost their jobs at the skyship factory.
The grandfather had decided to retire while the boy looked for work elsewhere, but one day a group of men came to their house, offering their services as “protection” from burglars. When the Kelmins refused to pay the men, they threatened to burn down their house and promised to come after them if they told the constables or tried to leave the city. They needed to escape Regara in secret, and Rook’s magic was their best option.
Drift put on a bright smile as the trio approached. “Hello,” she said, keeping her voice low but friendly. “We’re so glad you made it here safely. And it looks like we’ve picked up an extra guest.” She said it politely, but she glanced pointedly at the woman, silently waiting for her to explain her presence.
Before the woman could reply, the grandson spoke. “She’s with us,” he said shortly. “It’s fine.”
They waited, but no further explanation seemed to be coming, so Drift stuck out her hand. “Well then, let’s introduce ourselves,” she said, a bit reluctantly. “I’m Drift, and this is my friend Rook.”
There was an awkward pause as Mr. Kelmin and his grandson looked down at Drift’s outstretched hand. By the expression on their faces, she might as well have been holding out a poisonous snake and encouraging them to pat its head. The woman said nothing, but the grandson shifted so that he stood slightly in front of the old man.
Drift’s friendly smile never wavered. She lowered her hand and took a step back to give them all some space.
Finally, Mr. Kelmin seized his courage. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said, his voice quiet and scratchy, as if he were getting over a cough. “My grandson and I are thankful for your assistance.”
Thankful but still afraid of dealing with exiles. Rook felt a rush of anger, though she knew she shouldn’t be surprised by the Kelmins’ attitude. Some of their other clients had reacted the same way, especially in neighborhoods like Gray Town that were next to the Wasteland. The people of Regara had taken magic for granted for so long they never expected it to turn on them. When it did, they needed somebody to blame.
Taking a deep breath, Rook tried not t
o scowl at Mr. Kelmin. He was at least making an effort to be polite. “Mr. Baroman told you how my…how this works, right?” she asked. Her gaze darted suspiciously to the woman. She hated doing this when they still didn’t know if the woman was a threat, a Red Watcher or a constable waiting to ambush them.
“The clockmaker said you…well, that you could transport”—Mr. Kelmin’s voice quavered on the last word—“us to safety. I have a cousin in Siranta, a village on the Island Nation of Contis. We’d thought to try to book passage there across the White Sea, but we couldn’t raise the money to get that far, not in time anyway.” He stared down at Rook, a doubtful expression in his eyes. “Can you really help us get there?”
Rook nodded. “I can send you anywhere in this world you want to go.” She glanced at Drift. This next part was going to be tricky. It always was.
Drift cleared her throat and smiled her most easygoing smile. “We’re glad to help. All we need is for one of you—probably Mr. Kelmin, since it’s his cousin—to take Rook’s hand so that her magic can get an impression of that village from your thoughts. Kind of like molding a piece of clay,” she explained. “It won’t take a minute, and then we’ll be ready to go.”
She made it sound as simple as a walk in the sunshine, but it wasn’t. Really wasn’t. Rook’s power—when she used it to create a door for someone else—involved touching a person’s mind and getting a glimpse of the feelings nearest their heart. Nobody, no matter how open-minded about magic, wanted an exile that close.
Sure enough, a look of horror twisted the grandson’s face. “Wait a minute, y-you mean she’s going to read his mind? No one said anything about that! Grandfather, it’s a trick! You can’t let them do that to you!”
His words made Rook lose her grip on her temper. She squeezed the piece of chalk in her hand, snapping it in half. “Fine with me,” she said, and turned to Drift. “We can leave now. They don’t want our help.”
“Rook, now, let’s not be rude,” Drift said, at the same time Mr. Kelmin was trying to quiet his grandson. The conversation was deteriorating fast.
And then the scarred woman, who’d been standing silent as a ghost behind the Kelmins, spoke for the first time.
“Everyone, please lower your voices,” she said. Her tone was soothing, yet it carried an unmistakable ring of authority that cut through the chaos of the moment. “Let’s all calm ourselves and think clearly.”
Rook glanced at the woman, her suspicions still aroused even though the woman spoke reasonably. “Who are you?” Rook asked, tired of being polite. “Mr. Baroman didn’t say anything about you being here. I don’t see a red band on your arm, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a Red Watcher in disguise.”
“My name is Lily,” the woman said, fixing Rook with such a clear, penetrating gaze that Rook lost some of her bravado. “I’m not with the Red Watchers. The Kelmins are my friends.”
“It’s true,” Mr. Kelmin said, giving Lily a grateful smile. “She offered to help us when no one else would.”
Lily took the old man’s hand and squeezed it affectionately. When she turned back to Rook and Drift, her eyes were sharp. “I came to make certain they escaped the city and that they weren’t being taken in by charlatans who claim to have magic but might just be trying to wring as much money from them as possible.”
“That’s not what we do,” Drift said quickly. “You can trust us. We’re the real thing.”
“Oh?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’d care to give us a demonstration?”
Drift bit her lip, considering. “Fair enough,” she said, “but I’ll need some room.”
The Kelmins and Lily obligingly backed up several feet. Rook stayed where she was, but for the moment, everyone had lost interest in her. They had fixed their attention on Drift, waiting to see what trick or talent her friend might display. They were probably expecting something horrifying. Was the boyish little blond girl about to turn into a hideous monster with fangs and boils before their very eyes? Rook gritted her teeth. They had no idea the beautiful things Drift was capable of.
Although they were about to find out how she’d gotten her name.
With all eyes on her, Drift held her arms out from her sides and conjured a light wind that whistled through the alley and fluttered her bangs. The breeze was fine and cool against Rook’s cheeks. Just knowing it came from her friend eased some of the turmoil inside her.
But Drift was just getting started. She flicked her slender fingers and brought forth a heavier, more focused wind. It came from beneath her, blowing her hair straight up and effortlessly lifting her six inches off the ground.
Mr. Kelmin gasped. The boy grabbed his grandfather’s arm, digging his fingers in. They stared at the hovering girl, and even Lily looked impressed.
Drift turned to Rook and extended her hand. Clearly, she had one more demonstration in mind. Rook reached up and took Drift’s hand and immediately felt a sharp updraft beneath her feet. She relaxed into the wind and let it lift her up to hover beside Drift. Hand in hand, they stood before the Kelmins and Lily, smiling, as if floating in midair were the most natural thing in the world.
“Is that proof enough for you?” Drift asked. The whole time she was addressing the group, she watched the alley entrance to make certain no one else was witnessing the display. “Will you trust us?”
The Kelmins and Lily exchanged a look. “I—we believe you,” Mr. Kelmin said hesitantly. He stared as Drift guided herself and Rook back to the ground, then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch that jingled with coins. He gave it to Drift. “Here’s the payment we agreed on—it’s not much, but it’s all the money we can spare.”
And with that, he held out a trembling hand to Rook.
Rook didn’t wait for him to change his mind. She took Mr. Kelmin’s hand in a firm grip and closed her eyes. “Think of the place you want to go—no, the place you need to go, more than anywhere else in the world,” she instructed. “The magic reacts to feeling, and the place you feel the strongest about at this moment is the place it will take you.”
She had no idea if Mr. Kelmin was listening to her, but the older man’s grip tightened. Rook felt an answering jolt of power inside her, and a sweet, flowery scent filled her nostrils.
With the magic in place, Rook released the old man’s hand and opened her eyes. Mr. Kelmin looked a bit dazed. He held his hand extended for a second longer before dropping it. He gazed at Rook in wonder.
“That was…so strange,” he whispered. “I was thinking of my cousin’s house. It’s a very old place. We played there as children. There were wild orchids growing in the field behind the house, and every summer we’d pick some for our mothers. For a moment, just now, I thought…well, I thought I smelled the orchids. Isn’t that the oddest thing?”
Rook didn’t answer, didn’t tell him that she smelled the orchids too. Full of the power of Mr. Kelmin’s happy memory, she turned to the alley wall and began to draw.
Nerves fluttered inside her. She was never comfortable with so many people watching. Still, her magic did its work. When she’d finished joining her lines, golden light poured from the chalk drawing, snapping into place to create a plain wooden door with a worn brass knob, something you’d probably see in any common household in Regara.
Everything was going to be all right, Rook told herself. She just needed to send the Kelmins through the door, and then she and Drift were free to go home and eat the rest of their shroom buns.
She reached for the knob and eased the door open. There was a soft hiss of air, and a cold wind danced over Rook’s skin. Too cold for the Island Nation of Contis. Snowflakes swirled at her feet, and the familiar scent of pine needles filled the air even as a rush of foreboding swallowed her heart.
It was back. The strange, dark forest that haunted her, twisting her magic to return her doors to this same s
pot. Rook stared into the blackness as that sense of eyes watching fixed on her and intensified. She tried to pull back, but somehow she couldn’t make herself close the door.
Behind her, Drift spoke up. “We’re off the mark a little bit, but not to worry,” she said, and put her hand on Rook’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll just let Rook rest for a few minutes before she tries again. Right, Rook?”
Rook forced herself to turn and look at Drift. Concern filled her friend’s eyes. Rook knew it wasn’t because she’d made a mistake. Never that. It was because Drift saw that Rook was afraid.
“Y-yes, we’ll try again in just a minute,” Rook said. She started to close the door and banish the forest, but to her surprise, Lily stepped up and stood in her way.
“Where does it lead?” she asked curiously, peering among the dark, snow-laden trees. “Do you know?”
“I don’t want to know,” Rook said, and again tried to shut the door, but Lily stood calmly in its path.
“It could be Braidenwood Forest,” Mr. Kelmin said, a note of awe in his voice. He pointed to the ridges of bark on the closest tree, interwoven like strands of hair. Rook stared at him blankly. “That’s in the northern part of the kingdom of Izfel,” he explained. “Braidenwood trees only grow up there, and it’s very cold, so there aren’t many people. In fact, some stories say the forest is haunted, covered in strange mists that make it impossible to see.”
Rook clenched her jaw and took a step back. Just her luck to repeatedly open a door to a haunted forest. “If that’s true, then what are we still staring at it for?” she asked, irritated that Lily refused to get out of the way.
“Wait,” Lily said, cocking her head as if listening to something. “Do you hear that?”
Rook started to say no, when she realized she did hear something. It was a soft, rapid sound, like raindrops pattering on a rooftop.
Or feet crunching snow.
Then, in the distance, Rook caught movement, a large, shadowy form bounding through the dark forest, shaking snow and icicles from the trees as it arrowed straight toward them.
The Door to the Lost Page 3