by Joel Ross
“You did it!” Chibo told Ji, raising his hands. “Now do everyone else!”
“I can’t!”
“You have to, Ji! Look at them!”
Ji looked at them. Dozens of skinny kids surrounded him, working the looms, heads shaved and eyes blank. As if while they wove magical visions into tapestries, they lost their own vision. When they heard Chibo’s words, their faces turned toward Ji, unseeing but full of desperate hope.
“There’s no time!” Ji cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”
“We’ll come back,” Chibo told the other kids. “I promise, we’re coming back.”
Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, Ji dragged Chibo through the swirling air. At the end of the row, he caught sight of a burly man ambling toward them.
“Oh, no,” Ji whispered.
“What’s happening?” Chibo asked. “I can’t see!”
The overseer took two steps closer . . . then a bunch of gears in the next row started spewing thread. The overseer spun, yelling something that Ji couldn’t hear.
“The other kids,” Ji said. “They’re covering our escape.”
The overseer stalked into the next row. Ji wiped the tears from his face, waited three seconds, then raced with Chibo to the pile of wool bales.
“Climb the rope!” he said.
“What rope?”
Ji shoved the twine into Chibo’s hand. “Here. Put your foot in my hands, then climb onto my shoulders and keep climbing!”
The bell shrilled again. Ji watched Chibo climb and waited for the overseer to spot him. When Chibo disappeared through the opening in the wall, he scrambled up the twine. Slats in the wall made perfect footholds, and a minute later he crawled into the chute beside Chibo.
He yanked the twine in with them and slid the iron grate closed.
With the color flakes on the other side of the grate, the noise of the looms started again. “You can’t leave the other kids!” Chibo shouted.
“What else can I do?” Ji asked.
Chibo wrinkled his nose. “Save them.”
“How?”
“You’ll think of something.”
“I—I’ll try,” Ji said, hating himself for lying. “But first we need to finish saving you.”
“Okay, as long as you’ll try!” Chibo squinted higher in the shadowy chute. “Where’s Sally? Is she up there?”
“She’s waiting for you at home,” Ji told him. “She and Roz distracted the guards and had to run.”
“I haven’t run in forever!” Chibo raised one foot. “Look, no threads! Forget running, I can jump and tumble! I can hop! I can spin till I’m dizzy!”
“Hop later.” Ji started to close the cloth panel overhead. “They’ll be searching the streets. We’ll wait here a few hours, then sneak out.”
Chibo reached up to help with the panel but missed the strap by two inches. “Ow! Oops.”
Ji frowned at his wide brown eyes. They looked the same but didn’t seem to work so well anymore. Still, Chibo was as bubbly and enthusiastic as ever. Ji didn’t know how he’d stayed so cheerful, after what he’d been through. Ji would’ve wanted to burn the factory down and spit on the ashes.
Actually, he did want to do that. He remembered the other weaver kids’ hopeful faces and nearsighted eyes when Chibo promised them that he’d save them. He remembered their broken expressions when he’d said that he couldn’t. All they wanted was freedom; he knew how that felt. But he couldn’t help. Instead, he curled in the chute with Chibo for hours, quiet as a cheese-flavored mouse in a room of cats.
Deep in the night, Ji shook Chibo awake. They crept through the factory together and slipped into the midnight street.
23
THE FIRST HINT of dawn was touching the horizon when Ji and Chibo reached the footbridge near Proctor’s town house.
“Climb over the railing,” Ji said.
“Here?” Chibo asked, peering into the dim light.
“Yeah, but watch out. The grass is slippery on the other side, and there’s a canal at the bottom.”
“I know that,” Chibo said. “I can see a little.”
“Oh, right.”
“Plus, it smells totally canal-ish.”
Ji helped Chibo over the railing. As he led him across the grassy slope, a carriage rattled in the street and a frog croaked in the canal. They stopped outside the stone wall of Proctor’s town house and Ji rubbed his neck.
“You’ll have to stand on my shoulders and climb,” he said.
“Awesome!” Chibo said. “I love climbing.”
“There’s spikes on top of the wall. Don’t stab yourself.”
“Climbing good, stabbing bad.” Chibo nodded. “Got it. What happens once I’m up there? I mean, how do you get up?”
“I hid a coil of rope in the vines. Throw it down and—”
“I can see a canal, Ji. That doesn’t mean I can find a rope hidden in vines in the dark.”
“Oh. Well, there’s always my backup plan.”
“What’s that?”
“Cry like a baby,” Ji told him.
Chibo laughed, and a dark shape fluttered softly to the ground behind him, like a man-sized leaf falling from a tree.
“No babycrying, Sneakyji!” Nin said, his gravelly voice muffled by his weird mask.
Chibo yelped in surprise. He spun and slipped on the grass, tumbling toward the canal.
“Nin!” Ji yelped. “Quick!”
Nin swooped toward the canal, his cloak fluttering but his boots solid. He grabbed Chibo, tossed him across one broad shoulder, and gave a raspy giggle.
“Caught her!” he said.
“Wahoo!” Chibo yelled, raising his arms. “I’m flying!”
Ji clasped a hand to his heart. “First, you buttonhead, Chibo’s a boy. Second—”
“Sillybeets!” Nin stomped up the slope toward Ji. “Boy, girl. Too young to choose.”
“Okay.” Ji took a breath. “Stop being weird for five frothing seconds, would you?”
“Can’t stop,” Nin said. “Never started.”
“Very funny,” Ji said. “Are you going to help us over the wall?”
“And who are you?” Chibo asked, steadying himself against Nin’s cloaked head.
“This is Nin,” Ji said. “A friend of mine.”
Nin leaned closer to Ji’s face. His gruesome mask glinted faintly in the gloom of his hood. Then he lowered one red gauntlet from Chibo’s leg and made a fist in front of Ji. “Stonefriends,” he said solemnly. “Sneakyji and Nin.”
“You didn’t even last five frothing seconds,” Ji said.
Nin just stood there with his fist extended. “Stonefriends?”
“Stonefriends,” Ji agreed. He didn’t know what Nin meant, but he touched Nin’s fist with his own.
Nin made a sound like a two boulders colliding, then cocked his head toward Chibo. “So Chibald like swoopflying?”
“I love swoopflying,” Chibo told him.
“There’s no such thing!” Ji said. “And even if there was, you’ve never done it! And even if you had, there isn’t—”
With Chibo still on his shoulders, Nin swarmed up the stone fence, as fast as a blue-bat. When they reached the top of the fence, Chibo said, “I’m high as the treetops! I’m tall as a mountain!”
Nin hopped around and Chibo waved his arms until Ji hissed at them to shut their stupid mouths before they woke anyone.
Chibo whispered, “Sorry,” and Nin ducked his head apologetically. Then they disappeared down the other side of the fence.
“I’ve got to keep those two apart,” Ji muttered.
Nin vaulted the fence and landed beside Ji. “Grab you now?”
“Go ahead. Just—” Ji yelped when Nin carried him to the top of the fence like a bulldog carrying a rag doll. “Just remember, I don’t like swoopflying.”
“Sorry!” Nin said cheerfully.
“How come you’re so good at climbing?”
Nin pulled his hood lower. “
I’m mountainborn.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“I know! Sensemaking is my favorite thing.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Sarcastic?” Nin asked. “Like sardine and fantastic? Sarcastic means fishexcellent?”
“No, it doesn’t mean ‘fishexcellent.’” Ji looked toward the horizon for a moment. “So why do you want to know about the rite?”
“As a favor!” Nin said, and bounded away into the darkness.
“Weirdo,” Ji called after him.
There was no answer except the babbling of the canal.
When Ji climbed down the wall into Proctor’s property, he found Chibo in the garden, inhaling the scent of the flowers and herbs. Smiling softly, his eyes closed and his arms spread. Free.
The town house slept. Quiet on the ground floor. Quiet on the landing. Yet when Ji ushered Chibo upstairs toward the attic, he heard voices.
“We have to go back,” Sally was saying. “Right now.”
“We’ll wait until morning,” Roz said. “Then we’ll ascertain precisely what—”
Sally swore. “Stop with the fancy words!”
“We’ll find out what happened,” Roz explained, though Ji heard a rare impatient note in her voice. “And we’ll make a plan.”
“What plan?”
“I don’t know! Do I look like Ji? You make a plan.”
“My plan is we run back and try things.”
“That’s not a plan. Racing across the city in the middle of the night—”
“—is doolally,” Ji finished, climbing the last few steps.
“Jiyong!” Sally shouted, beaming like she’d burst.
“You’re alive,” Roz said, and swayed like she’d faint.
“I’m going to kill you!” Sally said. “We waited and waited but you never—”
Then Chibo stepped around Ji.
He was underweight and shaved bald—but when he peered blurrily at his sister, his smile was the biggest thing in the world. Sally’s face flickered from amazement to delight, then stopped on a combination of awe and joy.
Ji had never seen anything better.
Sally swooped Chibo into her arms. She touched his face and stroked his arms. They laughed and sobbed and held each other like they’d never let go. Tears streamed down Roz’s face, which glowed with such happiness that Ji’s exhaustion vanished. He was crying, too. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care.
Then Roz kissed Ji’s cheek. “I’m proud of you.”
His face caught fire and he grew nineteen feet. “Shut up,” he mumbled. “Um, er . . . so how did you make that distraction? Outside the factory?”
“We stabled Gongong with the horses,” Roz said, “then snuck outside the wall and laughed.”
“We laughed and laughed,” Sally said.
“So Gongong started bucking and drove the horses crazy?” Ji shook his head in admiration. “That’s evil.”
“Thanks,” Sally said. “Then Roz threw stones over the wall and broke the windows. She could hit a toad’s nose at twenty yards.”
“Not that I’d do such a thing,” Roz said. “I harbor no grudge against toads.”
Chibo clunked the rice-milk jug onto the table. “We have to free the others.”
“The other what?” Sally asked.
“The weaver kids! I’m here, but they’re still there. Right now. Every minute, every day.”
“We barely got you out,” Ji told him, and boots clomped on the stairs.
Ji lunged for Chibo, to hide him in a back room—but he was too late. The twins strode into the attic, followed by Proctor and Mr. Ioso.
“There!” Lady Posey pointed at Chibo. “I told you we saw the boot boy sneaking out. And look what he brought back. A bald monkey.”
“This is the younger brother?” Proctor stroked his beard and eyed Ji. “You kidnapped him from the weavers?”
“I can explain,” Ji said, trying to think of a lie.
“Please do,” Proctor said.
“Well . . .” Ji gulped. “I kidnapped him from the weavers.”
“That’s not an explanation.” Proctor chuckled. “It’s a confession.”
“But I swear that I ran off without telling Roz and Sally!” Ji said, sticking to the literal truth so Sally wouldn’t contradict him. “They weren’t there when I untied Chibo, and they didn’t—”
“Enough,” Proctor said, and glanced at Mr. Ioso.
When Ji followed his gaze, a blinding white flash exploded across the attic.
24
WHEN JI WOKE, he was in his bedroom. His neck hurt and his arms hurt and his eyes hurt. He lay there for a moment, letting his memories filter into his mind. Then he lay there for a few more moments, hoping his memories would improve.
They didn’t.
Eventually he rose to leave—but the door was locked.
“Huh,” he said.
Locked in his room. That wasn’t good. It was better than hanging, though. Unless they were planning to hang him later, in which case . . . well, it was still a little better.
“Hello?” he called, through the door.
Nobody answered. Where was everyone? Locked in their own rooms? Had Mr. Ioso’s flash of light knocked them out, too?
He called again, and nobody answered again, so he paced for a while. Then he lay on his stomach on the floor and looked out the window. Paper lanterns hung from tree branches in the courtyard, bobbing in the breeze. Leaves swirled and tumbled across the flagstones. The fountain reflected a cloudy afternoon sky.
He paced a little more. Then he worried about Roz and Sally and Chibo. Then he napped. He woke sweating from a nightmare about being woven into a massive colorful loom, surrounded by bald kids begging him for help.
Then he watched shadows lengthen in the courtyard as the sun moved across the sky. He wished he could follow it. Instead, he was trapped here, waiting for his doom. Even worse, he might’ve doomed Sally and Roz too. And after months of lying and stealing, all he’d done was free Chibo from the weavers . . . and brought him straight into even worse trouble.
Finally, footsteps sounded in the attic and the door opened. A menacing figure stood there, silhouetted by lamplight. He looked exactly like an executioner holding a disembodied head in a horrible sack. Then Mr. Ioso stepped inside, and the head in a sack turned out to be a load of dirty boots.
“Get to work,” he said, and dropped the boots.
“Oh, thank summer,” Ji said.
Mr. Ioso frowned at him. “What did you say?”
“Er, yes, sir,” Ji said. “Um, and where are Roz and Sally and Chibo?”
Mr. Ioso cracked his knuckles, then stomped away. He didn’t forget to lock the door behind him, though.
“Thanks,” Ji muttered. “You big cuddle-bear.”
He rubbed his aching shoulder and looked at the boots. Did they really expect him to clean them? What would happen if he didn’t? He could hardly get into worse trouble. Except maybe he could get into worse trouble. So he cleaned the stupid boots, even though he hated it even more than usual.
Mr. Ioso returned the next morning. He stuffed the clean boots into a bag, then gave Ji a bowl of rice and a soggy churro.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Ji asked.
“You’ll help Lord Brace at the Diadem Rite.”
“Help how?”
“However he tells you.” Mr. Ioso eyed him the way a butcher eyes a pig. “It’s a high honor, boy.”
Ji gulped. “Lucky me.”
“You should’ve served His Lordship better all these years. That’s the only way a half-smart peasant like you can get ahead.”
“I always treated Lord Brace nicely!” Ji said. “We . . . we’re almost friends.”
“Friends?” Mr. Ioso asked. “A mutt doesn’t make friends with a lion. You should’ve pledged your life to him. Maybe then you wouldn’t . . .”
“Wouldn’t what?”
Mr. Ioso hunched a massive shoulder. “Just
serve His Lordship well at the rite, boy. That’s all you need to know.”
“Oh. Yes, sir.”
Mr. Ioso peered at him. “You remind me of myself as a kid.”
“Um.” Ji tried to smile, to get Mr. Ioso on his side. “I do?”
“Yeah, I was a little snake, too.”
Ji flinched when the door slammed behind Mr. Ioso. A snake, huh? Then maybe he should slither away. He started prying a loose board from the floor in the corner of the room. Forget about the tapestry kids, forget about Roz and Sally and Chibo, forget about the stupid Diadem Rite. Just focus on escaping; focus on four inches of wood.
He spent the day on his belly, and when he finally pulled the board from the floor, he found another board beneath it. And that one wasn’t even loose.
After he finished crying, he lay on his stomach and gazed through the low window. In the evening gloom, five lanterns hanging in the cherry trees cast crazy shadows across the stone-paved levels of the courtyard. Nothing else moved—until he saw Brace vaulting a bush, his practice sword slicing the air.
“Whoa!” Ji gasped.
Halfway over the bush, Brace’s sword smacked into the staff that Pickle twirled at him from behind. Brace landed, pivoting away from Pickle, and swung his sword toward Nosey’s two thrusting rapiers. She crossed her blades, caught his blow—but he kept pivoting. He hooked her ankle with his boot and tripped her into a bench.
“Ha!” Ji said. “Go, Brace!”
Down below, Brace bowed to Nosey—then whipped his sword upward. Clank! He blocked Pickle’s staff, then ducked and lunged. Bursting forward, he punched Pickle with his sword hilt.
Pickle stumbled into a shrub, and Ji gave a low whistle. “He’s kicking their bums!” he called into the main room. “Look at him go!”
Nobody answered, of course.
Instead of bowing to Pickle, Brace spun and strode down a path. He looked confident and strong, like a swordsman.
Holding his blade low, Brace prowled toward a cherry tree. Ji didn’t know why . . . until Mr. Ioso slipped forward, holding a curved dagger in each hand.
“No way,” Ji breathed. “You can’t beat him.”
With his sword flicking like a snake’s tongue, Brace lunged forward—and even though he couldn’t hear, Ji thought that he laughed. He met Mr. Ioso in the moon shadow of the tree, with the lanterns bobbing around them. They exchanged blows too fast for Ji to follow. Clank-clink-clink-clink-clank. Then a flurry of clink-clanks, a sudden thunk . . . and Mr. Ioso took a step backward.