Lodestar

by Shannon Messenger

  Sophie was about to ask for details, when she remembered Keefe admitting that he’d kissed Biana once on a dare. He’d described it as “mostly on the cheek.”

  “How about we work on the scrolls again?” she said, deciding that games were too risky. Truth or dare was definitely out, and the only other game she could think of was spin the bottle—which would be a very bad idea.

  Biana pouted. “I suppose that’s the smart thing to do.”

  And so the hours went, filled with lots of squinting at tiny black numbers on endless scrolls. Their only breaks were for quick checks of their still-silent Imparters.

  “Brought you a refill,” Juline said, carrying a fresh tray of cinnacreme mugs into the solarium. And I finally heard from Mr. Forkle. He was over at Havenfield.

  HE WAS? Sophie and Fitz both transmitted together.

  Did something happen? Sophie asked.

  No—it’s still quiet. And it’s after midnight, so technically the day is over.

  Do you really think the Neverseen care about technicalities? Sophie asked.

  I don’t know what the Neverseen care about, Juline admitted. All I know is, for the moment, everyone is safe and I’m going to be grateful. They’ll stay on alert for the rest of the night, of course. But we’re all cautiously optimistic that the threat has passed. And Mr. Forkle agreed that we should keep avoiding important conversations around the Imparter until he can retrieve it in the morning. So why don’t you four try getting some rest?

  “We’re getting so close,” Biana said after Sophie passed along the message. “We might as well finish.”

  And they did. And Dex scowled at the final scroll. “I don’t know who their Technopath is—but they’re good. I can’t figure out the point of these numbers.”

  Any chance you’re just saying that for the benefit of the Imparter? Fitz asked him.

  I wish. This is the code I found hidden in Alvar’s records from the days we were kidnapped. He scribbled on the back of the nearest scroll:

  0-11-<<-1-1-1-0*

  Sophie studied it from a few angles. Okay, yeah, that doesn’t make any sense.

  It really doesn’t, Dex agreed. The most basic digital code—the kind that’s so basic, even humans use it—is made of ones and zeroes. But I have no idea what those other symbols are supposed to mean, or how they work.

  Well . . . I’m guessing the asterisk is for Lodestar, right? Fitz asked.

  Maybe. But some of the normal registry codes use asterisks too. Plus, the asterisk switches sides sometimes on the other codes I found hidden in Alvar’s records. Like this, which I’m pretty sure is from the day Sophie saw The Boy Who Disappeared.

  *0-1->-1->-111-0

  And I found these during the days that Alden’s mind was broken:

  *0->-111->>>-1-0

  0-<<-1-1-11-<-0*

  I’m assuming the sequences are different because each one stands for a different place Alvar went, Dex said. But no matter how long I stare at it, I still don’t understand how to read the numbers and symbols and AARRGGGRRHHH!

  He made the same noise out loud and collapsed backward onto his sleeping bag.

  Biana flopped back too, and Sophie and Fitz did the same.

  It’s still progress, Sophie transmitted. Remember, this is how it always goes. It’s always piece by piece, and it feels like we’re never going to figure it out—and then we find another clue and it all comes together.

  I just wish we could skip to the it-all-comes-together part, don’t you? Fitz asked as he yawned.

  Biana yawned too. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m exhausted. So I propose a truce. No one pranks anyone, and we all get to sleep. Is that proof that I’m becoming lame?”

  “It’s proof that we have a lot going on,” Fitz told her. “And we’ll handle it better if our brains are actually working in the morning. So how about this—if anyone breaks the pact, we make them brush their teeth with reekrod.”

  “Deal,” Dex said. “I’d rather save my prank elixirs for the triplets anyway.”

  “I’m in,” Sophie agreed.

  Biana called Iggy to her pillow, and within seconds his squeaky purr filled the room. Dex’s soft snores followed, and everyone seemed to still.

  Are you trying to reach out to Keefe? Fitz transmitted, nearly making Sophie yelp. Sorry—didn’t mean to startle you.

  It’s fine. And . . . I think I’m going to skip tonight’s check-in.

  Because you’re afraid of putting him in danger? Or because you’re afraid he’s doing something you don’t want to know about?

  Both, she admitted, hugging Ella tighter.

  I wish I knew what to say to help.

  I don’t think those words exist.

  What Keefe was doing was a complicated, impossible mess.

  If it makes you feel any better, Fitz told her, I’m keeping my Imparter right by my head. That way, if my parents hail me I’ll be sure to hear it.

  You’ll wake me up if they do?

  You really think you’re going to be able to sleep?

  No idea.

  Well, you can borrow Mr. Snuggles if you want.

  Sophie smiled. Nah, I couldn’t bear to keep you two apart. But thanks.

  Anytime.

  His mind went quiet, and Sophie figured he’d dozed off with the others. But right as her mind started to drift, he added, I’ll always be here if you need me.

  THIRTY

  SOFT CONVERSATION FLOATED through Sophie’s mind, the words blurring with her dreams—until one question caught her attention.

  Aren’t they cute?

  The voices sharpened into focus and she realized there were a lot of sappy adults watching her sleep. But she was too relieved to be annoyed about it.

  “Mom?” she asked, scooting out of her sleeping bag and waiting for her eyes to focus. “Dad?”

  “We’re here,” Edaline said as both her parents smothered her with a hug.

  “Sorry we woke you, kiddo,” Grady said. “Juline told us you guys were up half the night, after a pretty eventful day. You must be exhausted.”

  She was. Somehow getting only a little sleep always felt worse than getting no sleep—but she didn’t care about that right now. “You guys are safe?”

  “For now,” Edaline said, squeezing her tighter. “And don’t worry, we’ll be back on house arrest this afternoon. I just needed to talk with my sister in person. She’s been filling me in on . . . everything.”

  Sophie followed Edaline’s gaze to a fidgety Juline—who stood with Wraith, Blur, and Mr. Forkle, clearly making no attempt to hide her involvement with the Collective.

  Alden and Della were there too—and Sandor and Brielle and Cadoc and Woltzer and Grizel and Lovise and Kesler. Everyone except Granite and the triplets.

  “Wow,” Biana mumbled from her sleeping bag. “That’s a lot of faces to wake up to.”

  “It is,” Della said, blinking in and out of sight as she crossed the room to hug her daughter. “Did you forget to pack pajamas?”

  Biana looked down and blushed when she saw she was still in yesterday’s clothes. “No, we forgot to get changed. Ugh, and I forgot to brush my teeth.”

  She covered her mouth, trying to spare the world from her morning breath.

  “So what happened yesterday?” Sophie asked. “Did the Neverseen really not show up?”

  “Not at Havenfield,” Grady said. “We spent the whole day jumping at shadows—unlike you guys. Why am I not surprised that you had a way more productive day than we did?”

  Are we still supposed to be quiet around the listening device? Fitz transmitted as he sat up and stretched.

  Mr. Forkle held up a thin black box. “Mr. Sencen’s Imparter is in here for the moment. Our Technopath put a small speaker inside to broadcast the sound of normal conversation until she can take a closer look and check for anything Mr. Dizznee could’ve missed.”

  “Speaking of Dex,” Biana said, pointing to where he lay twisted up in his slee
ping bag. “Shouldn’t we wake him?”

  “Be my guest,” Kesler told her. “And good luck. Waking Dex is like waking a hibernating bear. The only thing worse is waking the triplets, who are thankfully still conked out upstairs.”

  Biana tried nudging Dex’s shoulder. And flicking his ear. And kicking his leg. Nothing worked—until she put Iggy on Dex’s pillow. One good Iggy burp in the face and Dex was sputtering and coughing and looking very disoriented.

  “Hey,” Biana told him. “Thought you might not want to miss this.”

  She pointed to the crowd of adults—who were trying very hard not to laugh.

  “Thanks,” Dex told her, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “So . . . what’s the bad news?”

  “What makes you think there’s bad news?” Juline asked.

  “Please—there’s no way you’d all be here if you didn’t have something bad to tell us.”

  The adults shared a look.

  “Why don’t we wait until you’ve all had some breakfast?” Kesler suggested. “The Vackers brought over these amazing pastries. They’re like eating a sweet, buttery cloud.”

  “Uh-uh,” Sophie said, ignoring the gurgle in her stomach. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  Mr. Forkle opened his mouth, but his voice didn’t seem to cooperate.

  “At the moment, we’re still piecing the details together,” Alden said quietly. “But . . . it appears the Neverseen did have a mission yesterday, like Keefe suspected—but the target wasn’t Grady and Edaline. It was—”

  His voice caught and he turned away.

  Sophie’s mind ran through worst-case scenarios, but none felt as shocking—or heartbreaking—as when Della told them, “The Neverseen attacked Wylie.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  WYLIE?” BIANA REPEATED. “Prentice’s son?”

  Shadows darkened Mr. Forkle’s eyes as he nodded. “He suffered an extensive interrogation.”

  Sophie rubbed her wrists as the ghosts of old wounds haunted her again. “Will he . . . ?”

  “Physic is treating him as we speak,” Juline promised. “But he’ll need to remain sedated for several days.”

  “Days,” Sophie repeated.

  She’d only needed days of treatment when she’d almost died.

  Red rimmed her vision and the knot in her chest begged to unravel as she sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm the rage bubbling under her skin.

  “It’s okay,” Grady whispered, tightening his hug. “Don’t give them this power.”

  Sophie gritted her teeth, using the anger to bind everything back together.

  “Does Physic think Wylie will recover?” Fitz asked.

  “She seemed pretty confident,” Blur said. “She thinks we caught the injuries early enough that he won’t have any scars—physically at least. Psychologically is anyone’s guess.”

  “Granite’s with him now, searching his mind to piece together the details of what happened,” Mr. Forkle added. “Then we’ll decide how many memories to erase.”

  Normally Sophie wasn’t a fan of altering people’s memories. But she could see how it might be for the best in this case.

  “How’s Granite holding up?” Biana asked.

  “No one can prepare for such evil to happen to their family,” Wraith told her.

  “He’s barely said ten words since we found Wylie in a crumpled heap on the Stone House’s porch,” Blur added. “Wylie must’ve crawled for the door with the last of his strength, after whatever desperate measures he used to escape.”

  “He still had bonds on his feet—and partial bonds on his wrists—and he reeked of sedatives,” Wraith finished sadly.

  “Do you know where he escaped from?” Sophie asked.

  Mr. Forkle cleared the thickness from his throat. “Unfortunately, no. At the moment, all we know is that he was taken from his room in the Silver Tower.”

  “How?” Fitz asked. “Aren’t there goblins patrolling the campus?”

  “Not as many as there should’ve been,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “We’re between terms, so most of the fleets have been reassigned to Lumenaria to prepare for the Peace Summit. And the one remaining patrol has been focusing its efforts on securing the newly arrived Exillium tents.”

  “But even if they got past the patrol, how did they get into the tower?” Dex asked. “The security in the elite towers is supposed to be legendary. My technopathy mentor went on and on about how it was designed the same way they did the insane security at Lumenaria, with a team of anonymous Technopaths each building only one small piece. That way no one would know the full scope, or how all the levels of security actually fit together.”

  “Truthfully?” Mr. Forkle said, “I have no idea how they got in. I’ve already accessed the security logs, and there were no unauthorized visitors. In fact, the records show that Wylie is the only prodigy who remained in the tower for the break—with no evidence that the files were altered. And since I’m sure you’re going to ask about the Lodestar mirror”—he paused to let everyone react to the name—“let me assure you that it was the first place I checked. Nothing in the Hall of Illumination had been disturbed. There was no trace of a fingerprint or a footprint. No way to remove the mirror from the wall and access behind it. The mirror is just a mirror, designed to teach the elite prodigies to see that the purest version of themselves comes from power, not appearance.”

  “Could a Phaser have walked through the walls to get in?” Biana asked.

  “The tower is impervious,” Blur said. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

  “Then they must have someone who has access to the tower who let them in,” Fitz said.

  “That was my thought as well,” Mr. Forkle told him. “But as I said, all the logs show Wylie being alone. I also watched the prodigies quite closely during my time as the tower’s Beacon, and none of them ever did anything to suggest a connection to the Neverseen.”

  “Neither did Alvar,” Della said quietly.

  The name hung heavy in the air.

  “If he was a part of this,” Alden whispered. “If he . . .”

  Sophie had been thinking the same thing about Keefe. He’d said he wouldn’t cross the hard lines—but would he count Wylie as one of them? Or would it be one of those “shady things” he was willing to do in order to keep playing the game?

  Wraith’s sleeves moved toward Alden, reaching for him with invisible hands. “You are not responsible for your son’s actions.”

  “But if we’d noticed—”

  “Please don’t go down that path,” Edaline begged. “We cared for Brant for sixteen years and never suspected either.”

  “It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life,” Grady said. “But I’m learning to divide the blame. Yes, I should’ve paid closer attention and asked more questions. But everything else was Brant’s choice. Brant’s actions. Brant’s wickedness. And the same goes for Alvar.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” Alden told him.

  “Try to believe it,” Grady insisted.

  “So where is Wylie now?” Dex asked. “Still at the Stone House?”

  “No, we had Physic move him to Alluveterre once he was stable enough for a leap, since we’re assuming they’ll come after him,” Blur said. “The fact that he escaped probably means they hadn’t gotten everything they wanted from him.”

  “What do they want?” Kesler asked. “Does anyone know?”

  “I can’t even hazard a guess,” Mr. Forkle mumbled. “And so far, his mind has been too clouded by the trauma for us to recover much.”

  “He’s not broken, right?” Sophie asked.

  “Thankfully, no. The Neverseen not having a Telepath worked in our favor—though I suspect that’s also why Wylie’s injuries were so extreme. Their only means of interrogation was torture.”

  Everyone shuddered, and Mr. Forkle handed the packaged Imparter to Blur. “I trust you’ll take care of getting that to our Technopath? I should get back to Alluveterre.”

  “I want to go with
you.”

  Sophie didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until everyone turned to her.

  “No one will be able to search Wylie’s memories better than I will,” she argued.

  She left out her other reason—it was too terrible to admit. But she needed to see Wylie’s memories for herself and make sure Keefe wasn’t there.

  She could forgive him for shattering glass and burning gates—but standing by while someone was tortured?

  She had to be sure.

  “You really think you can handle it?” Edaline asked her. “Wylie probably looks awful.”

  “ ‘Awful’ is not a strong enough word,” Wraith warned.

  Sophie swallowed hard. “I handled Paris, right?”

  “Not the same, even in the slightest,” Mr. Forkle told her.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Sophie said. “Wylie needs my help.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Blur chimed in, “I think she’s right. I think you should take her.”

  “Take us,” Fitz corrected. “This has Cognates written all over it.”

  “If they go—Dex and I are going too,” Biana added.

  Mr. Forkle rubbed his temples. “Wylie is not up for visitors.”

  “Then we’ll wait outside,” Biana pressed. “But we should be there. You might learn something we need to know. Or Sophie and Fitz might need moral support.”

  The members of the Collective turned to each other, probably conferring telepathically.

  “Very well,” Mr. Forkle eventually said through a sigh. “But I have a favor to ask.” His focus shifted to Sandor. “I need you to separate from your charge for the day. Miss Foster will be well protected by the fleet of dwarves stationed at Alluveterre. We have need of your exceptional senses in the Silver Tower. Perhaps you’ll catch something we’ve overlooked.”

  “If you’re looking for powerful senses,” Grizel jumped in, “You should have me go with him. Sandor lacks a certain . . . shall we say, sensitivity?”

  “If you feel comfortable separating from Mr. Vacker, we’d be happy to have your assistance,” Mr. Forkle told her. “The more thorough we are, the greater our chances of solving this mystery.”