by S. S. Taylor
DeRosa nodded to Leo Nackley and Maggie and sat back down. Now Maggie shuffled some papers and drew a deep breath.
“Kit,” she said, fixing her ice-blue eyes on me. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time so far at the Academy.”
“Uh, yes. Yes, I have.”
“You know that you’re very lucky to be here, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know that.” I couldn’t figure out where she was going with these questions.
“Well, we’ve noticed that you aren’t as . . . enthusiastic about your training here at the Academy as we might hope. Some of your teachers say that you seem listless in class. Bored.”
I gulped. “No, I . . . I really like it here.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. You’ve been spending a lot of time at the library lately, is that right?”
“I . . . I guess so,” I stammered. “I’ve had a lot of studying to do.”
“And you seem quite interested in geology.” She read off the list of textbooks I’d looked through while looking for Gianni Girafalco. “Despite the fact that you are not taking any geology classes this year.”
“I like to read,” I said lamely. “I’m interested in lots of different things.” A wave of dizziness hit me. It was warm in the office, and for a couple of seconds, Maggie’s face swam in front of my eyes, a blur of white. I took a deep breath and she came back into focus.
“And it looks like . . .” She consulted a handwritten list. “A couple of weeks ago you read a number of books about Simeria, again despite the fact that you aren’t studying Simeria right now. I find this curious.”
“Well, you know, it’s in the news so much right now. I was just interested to know more.”
There was a long silence, during which they all watched me as though they thought I would break down and admit everything if they just stayed quiet. Finally, Leo Nackley cleared his throat. “Mr. West, are you quite sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?”
“No. I’m sure,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“Anything about the attempt on Mr. Foley’s life? Or about any other matter? For instance, something about Arizona? Or a map?”
Maggie looked confused. My heart beat very fast. I’d been stupid to make fun of Lazlo. Obviously he’d told his father. And now Leo Nackley was suspicious.
“Nothing you don’t already know, sir,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “There was a map. We followed it. Lazlo found the gold first. You were there.”
“Ah, yes, that’s right,” Maggie said. “The treasure hunt. Well, if there’s nothing else, I think you can go, Mr. West.”
As I got up, I could feel Leo Nackley watching me. Outside Maggie’s office, I found Dolly Frost trying to talk to the students who were still waiting for their interviews. The reporter had dressed up for her visit to the Academy, and her bright-pink dress and highheeled boots looked out of place in the mountains. “Mr. West, can I speak with you?” she said, but I brushed past, ignoring her. The last thing I needed was to get in trouble for talking to the press.
Sukey caught up to me on my way back to the library.
“What did they ask you?” she asked as we walked along, keeping our voices down.
“Books.” I told her about Maggie’s list of the books I’d read. “And Leo Nackley asked about Arizona.” Sukey raised her eyebrows. “I know, I know. You were right. I never should have been so sarcastic with Lazlo. But they seemed really interested in Kemal and Joyce and all of the other foreign students.”
“Yeah, they asked me about Kemal, too. They wanted to know if I knew that Ottomanland borders East Simeria and asked if he’d ever talked about relatives of his who were still back there and were ‘political activists.’ Did they frisk you? I was worried about them finding the maps and the key.”
“Nope. I was worried, too. I’ll have to find a better hiding place. What do you think is going to happen now?”
“I don’t know, but Kemal and Joyce had better be careful.”
That night at dinner I searched the Longhouse but couldn’t find Kemal or Joyce or any of the other foreign students.
The strangest thing was that no one said a word about them. It was as though we’d all agreed to pretend they’d never existed.
Eight
Ever since I’d arrived at the Academy, I’d been dreaming about Dad. It was as though being in the place where he’d spent so much time had returned my memories of him to me, memories that had been pushed down during all these months of his absence. My dreams were strange, partly things that had actually happened, partly nightmares about Dad being taken away or disappearing under the surface of a river. It was all starting to get mixed up in my mind, the real world and the dream world, and it made it hard for me to concentrate in class or in the library.
That night, I dreamed that I was chasing Dad along a steep, winding mountain path. The light was strange, an oddly bright moon lighting the way like a huge torch in the sky. I kept yelling at him to slow down, but he didn’t seem to hear me.
I was chasing him when I passed a bush covered with little blue flowers. They were familiar, and I studied them for a minute before I resumed my chase. But Dad was gone. I could just barely make out his footprints on the path, and it seemed to me that if I looked at them too long, they also disappeared.
I heard a bird call, and when I looked up to find Pucci, everything was murky, and I felt as though I was swimming through black water.
Caw! Pucci cried overhead as I awoke, my room still dark. Caw!
Zander and I had a small bunk room at the back of Base Cabin 6, the biggest of the boys’ cabins at the Academy. The rooms were tiny, with a set of bunk beds, a few hooks on the wall for jackets and gear, and space against the wall for our trunks. I slept on the bottom bunk, and it took me a minute to get my bearings. It must have been Pucci outside the open window that woke me from the dream because now I could hear him chortling out on the sill.
I lay there, looking up at the underside of Zander’s bunk, the details of the dream coming back. Something about the flowers bothered me. And then I realized what it was: I knew those flowers. They grew on the side of Mt. Arnoz, along the path to the Mountaineering Hut, where we had all of our climbing and mountaineering and alpine survival lessons. They’d been transplanted from Deloia around the time the Mountaineering Hut was built—I’d heard Sukey refer to them as Deloian Starflowers—and they had thrived in the mountains, spreading all over the face of Mt. Arnoz and along the hiking trails.
But then my mind turned to the little silver key and the flowers carved into its head. It had to be a sign from Dad. The mystery of the key had something to do with the Starflowers. What was it Raleigh had said, that Dad often disappeared up near the Mountaineering Hut?
For a few minutes, I considered waking Zander, but rejected the thought. Too risky. I dressed quickly in black training clothes, slipping out of the cabin into the darkness. There was a big, almost-full moon in the sky, and once I was out of the trees that shaded the cabins, I could see pretty well by its light. I kept to the woods next to the main path and listened for the agents who patrolled the grounds of the Academy at night.
Right at the beginning of the school year, there had been a boy named Frederick Carley who had been expelled for being out of his cabin at night. Sukey said that she’d heard he’d been going to visit his girlfriend. Apparently the agents didn’t have any sympathy for young love.
I knew I was taking a huge risk, but I told myself that Frederick Carley hadn’t had what I had: Pucci.
I whistled very softly and heard him whistle back. He’d stay high overhead, looking for danger, and alert me if anyone was near.
I made my way slowly past the Longhouse and the main campus buildings, watching through the trees and listening for agents, before starting up the winding web of trails that covered Mt. Arnoz. I was still learning the trails, but I’d already spent a lot of time at the Mountaineering Hut, so I knew the way, even in the near-darkness. The night air wa
s chilly, and I was glad I’d worn a sweater under my vest and put on my flannel-lined trousers.
I hiked for twenty minutes or so before I saw the peaked roof of the Mountaineering Hut ahead on the trail. It was actually a fairly large, hexagonal structure, used for classes and equipment storage, and it even had a bunk room in case someone got stranded up there in the snow. Everyone just called it the Hut. The big classroom on the second floor had 360-degree views of the mountains. The lockers—including the one that had been Dad’s—were on the first floor. I waited until I was past its looming shadow before I turned on my vestlight, shining it on the starflower bushes that grew along the slope. The path was well used and easy to follow, but I assumed that any hidden doors or secret compartments weren’t going to be right on the path, so I made my way up the steep grade through the bushes, inspecting the ground carefully. I got the key out of my vest pocket, ready to open whatever door I was going to find.
I stopped and listened. I couldn’t hear anything but the wind moving through the trees and a bird calling somewhere up the slope.
I tried not to be nervous. Pucci was watching. Surely the agents didn’t come all the way up here. But then something moved in the trees. A squirrel. It had to be a squirrel. It moved again. A deer, maybe. I stopped and listened, my heart pounding, then started walking again. The wind had come up, and it whistled through the trees with an eerie hushing sound. I still had Dad’s key ready in my hand, and I held it out in front of me, as though I could use it as a weapon if I needed one.
I’d gone about a hundred yards when I thought I heard footfalls on the path behind me. My heart pounding, I turned to scan the path with my vestlight, but no one was there. The wind moved through the trees and against the side of the mountain again. I shivered and started to run. I couldn’t see Pucci above me, couldn’t hear him.
And then there was a rush of air behind me, and I felt cold metal go over my mouth, and a familiar voice whispered in my ear, “Don’t scream.” Strong arms dragged me into the woods on the side of the path and then dropped me onto the ground.
“Sorry about that,” the voice whispered. “It was the only way.”
It was the Explorer with the Clockwork Hand.
Nine
“Turn off your light,” the Explorer whispered. “I don’t want to attract attention.”
He pulled me up off the ground, and before I switched off the light, I saw the familiar face, barely visible under the brim of his hat.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him. “Francis Foley and Mr. Mountmorris were here. Someone tried to kill Foley. The place is swarming with agents. If they find you—”
“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about me. The question is, how are you? It’s been a long time.” He smelled the way I remembered him, like Dramleaf and unwashed clothes. His voice was hoarser, but I recognized the accent—Eastern European, I’d guessed the first time I heard it, just a little twist on his w’s.
“I’m . . . I don’t know, how do you think I am? You gave us the book, but you didn’t tell me anything about what was going to happen. We were almost killed. Tex—well, John Beaureguard—he was killed.”
“I know. I was very sorry to hear it.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about the map? About what was in the canyon?”
“Because I didn’t know about the map. Or the canyon.”
“But you gave me the book!”
“Because your dad asked me to. I didn’t know where it was going to lead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
I could feel myself getting angry at him. “Are you a member of the Mapmakers’ Guild? Was Dad?”
He laughed. “You’re a smart one. I can’t tell you that yet, but—”
He snapped his head up, listening. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. Our parrot came with me. Maybe it’s him.”
“No. I have to go.” He stood up and tipped his hat back. Now I could hear it, too, voices coming closer. Agents. “Go up there in those rocks,” he whispered. “There’s a little cave that may prove useful. Try not to make any noise.”
“But what’s going on?”
“Shhh. Be careful. And if they catch you, don’t tell them anything.”
He was gone, disappeared into the trees.
I stood there, frozen, not sure what to do. And then, before I could make a decision, I heard a dog bark once, and they were on the path just below me. “There’s no one up here.” It was DeRosa. I recognized his voice.
“But where else would he have gone?” Leo Nackley. I knew his voice now too, and hearing it sent a chill down my spine.
“Who are we looking for, anyway?” DeRosa asked.
“A troublemaker. He may be trying to contact one of Alexander West’s children. We still think West may have left behind messages for them and may be using this criminal to deliver them.”
“Are you sure you saw—”
“Of course I’m sure,” Nackley said. “Why would I have woken you up and brought you and your mutt all the way up here if I wasn’t sure? What does the dog say, anyway?”
In answer, the shepherd gave a huge, deep bark. “He smells something,” DeRosa said. “Up that way.”
They were right below me, and if I stayed where I was, they were going to stumble over me in less than a minute. I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran, still clutching the key in my right hand.
“What was that?” Leo Nackley shouted. “Chase him!” I heard their footsteps behind me, but I just kept on running, trying not to slip on the loose rocks on the path. They had bright lights, and I tried to stay low so their beams wouldn’t find me.
Suddenly, I ran up against a wall of rock covered in the twining starflowers. I felt my way along and found what the Explorer had been talking about: a shallow crevice worn into the face, covered by a veil of vines, big enough to tuck myself into, though the dog would still be able to smell me. The moon was on the other side of the mountain now, and it was dark here. I allowed myself one deep breath and squeezed inside just as their voices came up the path below me.
They were so close. The dog was yelping, telling them I was there. I pressed myself into the rock, trying to make myself as small as possible, but I knew it was over. They’d found me.
“The trail goes up this way,” DeRosa announced. My fingers sought out the little crevices in the rock. Maybe I could climb up high enough that I’d lose them. I was realizing what a stupid idea it was when I felt something under the index finger of my right hand. A metal plate, with a keyhole in the center. It was so small, I never would have found it if I hadn’t been pressed up against the rock. Could it be? Slowly, trying not to make a sound, I inserted the key into the hole. I had to use both hands since I couldn’t see, but I got it in and turned it.
Click.
The wall moved, swinging silently away from me, and I stepped through the opening just as the voices reached my hiding spot.
It was a terrifying feeling, stepping into darkness with no idea of what was on the other side. I carefully shut the door behind me and leaned against it, sucking at the stale air of wherever it was I was hiding. I couldn’t see a thing. For all I knew I’d just stepped into a bear’s den.
“There’s someone in here!” I heard DeRosa shout from the other side of the door. “It’s a cave! Quick, move the vines aside!” The shepherd barked.
I could see light from their flashlights through the keyhole, and I knew they were just on the other side of the door. I held my breath, the key clutched in my hand.
“There’s no one here, you idiot!” Nackley shouted. “It’s a cave, but it’s empty.”
“The dog picked up the scent,” DeRosa said apologetically. “He must have headed up the mountain.”
“Well, don’t waste time. Let’s go!”
“Come on, boy, this way,” DeRosa panted. His dog barked again, as if in protest, but I heard the voices moving away from the door.
“I just don’t see how he could have entered the campus without us knowing,” DeRosa said.
Nackley blew up. “I saw him, you idiot! You and the Academy agents weren’t doing your jobs.” The voices were getting fainter.
“I don’t see how that’s . . .”
I counted to a hundred before turning on my vestlight. The light shone into the space around me. I was alone inside a natural cave that had been turned into a small room with the addition of the door. It was a thin, concave slab of stone that had been cut to fit precisely into the arch of the cave. If I hadn’t felt the keyhole, I never would have seen it.
The room was about the size of our bunk room, with a sloping ceiling and smooth walls. The only pieces of furniture were a small wooden table and chair against one wall, covered with piles of paper, and opposite, a long couch with an old woolen blanket stretched over it. Above the table were three rows of bookshelves.
On one of the lower shelves was a square box with a screen on the front, the base covered with buttons and switches, the back sprouting wires like hair.
A Muller Machine.
Dad had been here in this room. It was where he’d been leading us. I sniffed the air and the blanket, recognizing the scent of Dramleaf and sweat; the Explorer had been here, too. In fact, I was willing to bet that this is where he’d been hiding.
I shone my light carefully around the space. I was nervous about touching the Muller Machine, but curiosity got the better of me, and I pressed a red button on the front with the word power printed underneath. Nothing happened. I tried a few more buttons, but the machine didn’t seem to be connected to an engine or battery or anything. Where had it come from? Had it been Dad’s? I knew that all of the Muller Machines had been outlawed when he was a kid. So where had he gotten it? If it had been found, it would have been confiscated.
Next I shone my light on the walls. There were some maps of the White Mountains hung up here and there, the cellophane tape yellowed and cracking, with red pencil lines tracing the hiking trails on Mt. Arnoz.