by Marissa Burt
Wren eased herself carefully through the hole, looking quickly to see if anyone was around, but she seemed to be in an abandoned part of the city. She replaced the grate, dusted herself off as best she could, and made her way down the street. Boarded-up buildings stared hollowly at her as she moved from shadow to shadow. She felt the uncanny sensation of eyes watching her from somewhere within, and she quickened her pace. There were no gas lamps here. No vendors selling goods. Just echoing, empty streets. On the corners, she saw broken hourglasses and apparatuses that looked like they belonged in the Crooked House, abandoned and rusted with disuse. It seemed that without enough stardust, whole parts of the city had fallen into ruin and disrepair.
Wren wandered for what felt like most of the morning, first turning right, then left, always keeping the House of Never behind her. Her clothes soon grew damp with the ever-present mist of the city, and her tiredness returned. Shivering, she realized that to get back to the Nest, she’d need to think like a Scavenger, and a Scavenger would never wander through the streets on foot.
She spied a thick drainpipe with tiny footholds on either side and began to climb. No problem. You’ve got this. She willed her trembling body to be strong, shoving her anxiety back down into the cramped box of emotions she kept tight reign over. Hand over hand, foot over foot, she scaled the pipe and eventually pulled her shaky self up onto the rooftop. From there, she could see that she was on the far side of the House of Never, opposite from where they’d arrived the night before. In fact, she wasn’t far from the thick wall that ringed the city.
All her street wandering had only taken her farther away from the Nest. Sighing, she decided to continue traveling like a Scavenger, keeping the House of Never fixed on her left and hurrying over the rooftops, stopping only to painstakingly navigate the jumps between buildings.
Finally, a familiar landmark came into view: a glass rotunda she remembered seeing the night before. Below her, she saw signs of movement on the streets—carriages rumbling by and people going about their business. Wren’s relief was almost palpable. Only at the sight of other people did she realize how foreboding the feeling of being watched had been. Her relief was short-lived, however.
“Hey, you,” an angry-sounding voice said, and Wren froze behind a chimney pipe. It didn’t work.
“I said: hey, you,” the voice insisted. “What are you doing in Scavenger territory?”
Wren opened one eye and then the other, peeking around to see a boy in rough clothes and an older girl with silvery-white hair standing on the roof, legs apart and arms folded across their chests confrontationally. Wren recognized the girl’s hair immediately.
“You’re Silver, right?” Wren said, weak with relief. “I’ve been looking for the Nest! Can you take me there? I need to talk to Vulcan.”
It turned out that Wren was closer to the Nest than she’d thought. As the pair of Scavengers led her over rooftops and across buildings, Wren learned that the boy’s name was Rocky. He looked familiar, too, from when they’d all crowded around the dining table back at the Nest. He was Silver’s brother, and they had joined the Scavengers two years ago when their parents disappeared. When Wren asked what had happened to them, Rocky’s voice grew hard.
“Nothin’ but theories,” he said. “The leaders say they prob’ly went outside the Wall when they shouldn’t have.” He picked his way past a line of drying laundry. “Bad things happen outside the wall and all, but I know my ma and pa better. They never would’ve done somethin’ like that.”
Silver’s voice grew furtive. “More and more people have started disappearing. You’re not supposed to ask questions, but we Scavengers aren’t too good at following rules.” She gave a low laugh. “I know our parents are still alive.” Silver neatly leaped a gap between buildings. “And I think Boggen and his henchmen know they’re still alive as well.”
“Wishful thinking,” Rocky said, his hand resting on a fire escape. “They’re probably dead, like everyone else who was working in the stardust labs during the plague.” He shrugged at Wren. “Long-term side effects of the taint. That’s what all the secrecy is about, y’know. If people found out that the plague was still killing folks, there’d be a full-scale riot.”
“I think Silver’s right,” Wren said carefully. “I’ve heard rumors that Boggen is imprisoning people.”
Silver stopped, whirled around, and eyed Wren suspiciously. “Where did you come from, anyway?”
Wren dodged the question. “I’m looking for the Outsiders. You should, too. They know more about Boggen’s plans.”
Silver grunted, seemingly pacified, and Wren decided not to volunteer any more information. Instead, she followed them silently down the fire escape into the familiar alley that led to the Nest. She added Rocky and Silver’s parents to the list of people who needed rescuing. If they were still alive, that is. But all of this dropped out of her mind when she reached the ground and saw who was in the courtyard outside the Nest.
“Simon!” Wren ran toward him, leaving a puzzled-looking Rocky and Silver staring after her.
Simon stood up from where he had been feeding Coeur and his own falcon, Leo, and grinned at her. “Wren! You’re back!”
Wren felt like hugging Simon tight around the neck, she was that glad to see a friendly face, but Simon had stuck out his hand awkwardly, so she pumped it up and down instead. “You made it out of the House of Never!”
Simon nodded and looked behind her. “Where’s Jack?”
“He’s okay. For now.” Wren eyed Rocky and Silver nervously. “It’s actually a long story.”
“We should go report to Vulcan,” Silver said, elbowing her brother. “Tell him what this one said about Boggen’s plans.”
“I have to finish feeding the falcons,” Simon said.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Wren told the others. As soon as they were out of sight, Wren leaned close to Simon. “Where did you go? What happened to you last night?”
“The falcons were roosting on a building next to the House of Never.” Simon was carefully laying out strips of dried meat for the birds. “They were nearly starving, poor birds, so I brought them back here to feed them.” Once he had arranged the meat to his satisfaction, he looked up at her with interest.
“What about you and Jack?”
Wren sighed heavily, watching Coeur and Leo swoop down to grab the meat in their talons. “Jack is with Boggen,” she finally said, and Simon’s head shot up.
“What?”
Wren explained what had happened. “He sacrificed himself so that I could escape.”
“Sacrificed himself or wanted to reunite with Boggen,” Simon said, and Wren felt a thread of suspicion reverberate inside her.
“I think Jack’s changed. He’s different now.” She willed her words to be true.
“I hope you’re right,” Simon said quietly. They talked over the rest of what had happened, what Wren had learned from Mary and Cole and what Simon had observed of the city. He told her that the neighborhoods appeared to be laid out according to castes.
“They seem to be a pretty divided lot,” he said, methodically laying out more strips of meat. “I think Boggen likes it that way, because if the different groups are suspicious of one another, they can’t unite against him.”
Wren watched Coeur swipe a slice of meat and then soar up to the roof to feed. They needed help, and Wren would rather take help from kids like Vulcan, Rocky, and Silver—kids who had good reason to work against Boggen—than anyone else they had seen on Nod.
“I told the birds to stay close,” Simon was explaining. “Vulcan said it was dangerous for them to leave the city or fly too high. Actually, it’s quite interesting.” His voice grew animated. “Apparently, the Magicians have created a unique design that keeps the entire city shielded from above. I think that’s how the Noddians detected our airship. Remember that big jolt we felt when—”
Wren cut him off. “Forget the architecture of Nod. Tell me about Vulcan. You’ve spe
nt more time with him. Can we trust him and the other Scavengers?”
Simon sat back on his haunches, looking thoughtful. “I think so.” He scratched his head. “We might have to. He knows something’s up. There are no falcons on Nod, for one thing, and we have two.”
Wren nodded, watching Leo follow Coeur up to the roof.
The falcons wheeled overhead, diving down to gather more meat. Wren could tell they felt confined, only allowed to fly up and down the street outside the Nest. Just like all of them. Mary, Cole, Jack, and even Rocky and Silver’s parents. All of them were trapped in this strange city with only Wren and Simon to save them. She looked back at the Nest, squaring her shoulders. Maybe she and Simon wouldn’t have to do this alone after all.
“C’mon,” she said to Simon once the falcons had finished their meal. “It’s time to talk to Vulcan.”
FOURTEEN
There was a Crooked Man
Full of crooked ways.
His bowlfuls of starfire
Will bring the end of days.
Vulcan sat across from Wren and Simon, pouring some of the hot tea he had served them the day before. Rocky and Silver had returned and led them to a cramped room in a corner of the Nest where gray daylight filtered through grimy windows.
“Alchemists,” Vulcan said, his piercing green eyes sending Wren’s thoughts scattering. “Actual Alchemists. Here on Nod.” He blew out his breath. “I almost wouldn’t believe it, except that you’ve been acting so suspicious. Outsider spies not knowing how to find their own people!”
“We are telling you the truth,” Simon said. They had laid everything out for Vulcan—what they knew of the stardust taint, Boggen’s desperation, and William’s horrible research—but he still seemed most concerned about something Wren had accidentally let slip: the Ashes.
“The Ashes told us—” Wren had said, and Vulcan immediately made a strange X with his hands, as if to ward off evil.
“The Crooked Man’s Ashes?” Vulcan’s mouth was tight.
“What is it with Magicians and the Crooked Man?” Wren said, remembering that Robin had responded similarly.
“Well, nothing, if you don’t mind death and destruction.” Vulcan set his mug down carefully. “Don’t you have the Legend on Earth?”
Wren shrugged. “What legend?”
“The Legend of Starfire.” Vulcan’s face was very solemn as he began a rhyme:
There was a Crooked Man
Full of crooked ways.
His bowlfuls of starfire
Will bring the end of days.
Destruction and ruin, oh, Listener, take heed!
For woe to those who with the Crooked Man must plead.
When he finished, the room was very still. “There are tons of rhymes like that, warning of the Crooked Man’s destruction. I know you said those Ashes helped you, Wren, and I suppose I believe you, but now believe me—they mean only to destroy Nod.”
Wren nodded slowly and took a sip of her tea. She couldn’t very well tell him what she was thinking, that trying to cleanse the gateway seemed like the opposite of destruction. Whatever else they meant to do, she thought the Ashes did intend to save Earth’s stardust, but little good that did them here. The Ashes couldn’t help her now. Vulcan could. And he seemed ready to rally the other Scavengers and attack the House of Never all on his own. All of the Scavengers were orphans. All of them had lost parents. She didn’t blame him for hoping that his parents might not really be dead after all.
“You’ll help us, then?” Wren asked when he was done cursing Boggen for the fifth time. They had finally convinced Vulcan that rushing off impulsively might just supply Boggen with a whole bunch of new, young research subjects.
“Of course,” Vulcan said. He told them that he thought he knew somewhere they could find help, a shop that had connections to the Outsiders. He brought sandwiches, and they sat for some time eating while making companionable conversation. Vulcan seemed keenly interested in everything they could tell him about Earth. That, and perhaps something else, too.
“He likes you,” Simon said matter-of-factly after Vulcan cleared the table and left to return the dishes to the kitchen.
“What do you mean?” Wren said, her cheeks flaring with heat. She knew very well what Simon meant. She just wasn’t sure what to do with it.
When Vulcan bustled back into the room, Wren could hardly meet his eyes. His extraordinarily green eyes.
“All right. Let’s go,” Vulcan said with a grin, leading them out into the maze of city streets. They were crowded with people. Men wore brightly colored tailored jackets and vests and escorted women in dresses of fine silks that trailed over the ground. Children in crisp matching uniforms ran down one street, and Wren and Simon were accosted by dirty urchins hawking papers on another.
As Wren became more accustomed to the sights of the city, she began to notice things. The way certain streets were nicely kept, with well-scrubbed people walking under tidy storefronts. Whereas others seemed forgotten, with garbage in the gutters and dirt-smudged people selling goods on every corner. Perhaps this was what Simon meant about there being such a strict caste system on Nod.
“Citywide search for the Knave of Hearts,” a ragged-looking boy crowed at Wren, shoving a paper in her hands. She stopped to stare at it.
“‘Knave of Hearts.’” Simon read the front headline. “‘Wanted dead or alive for crimes against Boggen. Any information about his whereabouts will be richly rewarded.’” The article went on to say that the Knave had been involved in union meetings and speaking out against the leadership of Nod, all of which amounted to treason.
“Five pence for the paper, miss.” The toothless boy’s hungry eyes were on her.
“They’re done with it,” Vulcan said, shoving it back at the boy and walking briskly away. “You want to draw attention to yourselves?” he scolded.
“Hey!” the boy said. “No reading for free. ’Tisn’t fair.” But Wren was hurrying after Vulcan.
“The Knave of Hearts,” she began. “You said—”
“If we find the Outsiders, we’ll find the Knave,” Vulcan said confidently.
Simon kept his head down as he pushed after Vulcan through the crowds. It seemed that they weren’t the only ones on the move. They met people with suitcases and trunks on their backs and saw carriages laden with household goods. They passed a store where a worried-looking shopkeeper was locking up the front gate. Another had a sign posted: “Temporarily Out of Business. Please Call Again Later.”
“Where is everybody going?” Wren asked no one in particular.
“Haven’t you heard, dearie?” A wizened old man pulling a cart full of crates and baskets behind him said. “The Crooked Man’s star is in retrograde.” He placed a finger alongside his nose. “Nightmares and hauntings and all. The plague is coming for sure. Add that to Boggen’s men on the hunt, and you’d be stupid to not do something about it. Hurry on home to your ma.”
“But where is everyone going?” Wren asked again.
The man stopped wheeling his cart and peered closely at her face. Wren took a step back, but the man reached out with a grubby hand.
“Hey!” Wren said, pulling back when he touched her forehead.
“Nope. No fever. No plague yet.”
“Do you mean the plague of magic?” Simon turned from examining the cart and directed all his powers of observation at the man. “Is it returning?”
The man cowered, as though by making himself small, he could keep bad things from happening to him. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “I shouldn’t be standing here talking. Told my wife I’d get our stock locked up before nightfall.” He gave Simon a wary look. “You two, watch yourselves now.” And then the man was gone remarkably quickly, pulling his cart behind him. Wren watched him go. What did the man mean? She wished he had stayed longer. They had so many questions.
“Another plague of magic?” she finally landed on. “Do you think that really might happen?”
“I don’t know.” Simon shook his head soberly, until he was bumped from behind by a man with hooded eyes and a nasty-looking device strapped to his side. “Maybe once we find the Outsiders we can find some answers.”
Wren agreed with him. She looked for the Outsiders’ symbol—the outline of a bird in flight over a sword, which made Wren think fondly of her falcon. Knowing what symbol to look for didn’t help very much, however, as there were images of all sorts on buildings here. There were bird shapes and owls and swans. Other birds that were surely swooping hawks and some that were little chicks. Clearly, birds were very important to the Magicians on Nod, which was odd considering their conspicuous absence. She stopped when she finally caught up with Vulcan, who was standing in front of a bakery, staring up at the symbol discreetly etched on the awning over its doorway.
“This is it,” he said, turning around and smiling at Wren.
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring Simon’s knowing grin.
She pushed the door to the quiet shop open, making her way into the fragrant interior. Her stomach rumbled as she took in the display cases full of freshly baked loaves of bread.
“Hello?” she said, but there was no response.
“I think they’re closed and forgot to lock up,” Simon said, pointing to the snuffed gas lamps and the chairs propped up on top of tables.
“In the middle of the day?” Wren said. She’d never heard of a successful restaurant that wasn’t open to serving customers. “Do you think they’re worried about the Crooked Man’s star as well?”