Neverseen

by Shannon Messenger

“Close enough. For right now.”

  Sophie hated that he was right. “All I meant was that nothing could shock me.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “I don’t. I’ve also been in Alden’s mind after it shattered, remember? Shoot, I’ve been in an ogre’s mind—though that was surprisingly soft and calm. But still. An ogre brain! And I’ve been in Lady Galvin’s head too, when I stole the Alchemy midterm questions.”

  “I forgot about that. Who knew you were such a rebel?”

  “I have my moments.”

  He almost looked proud. “But . . . now you’re used to spending your days trading secrets with Captain Perfect. And I guarantee you, my mind is nothing like his.”

  “Who said it should be? And Fitz isn’t perfect, by the way.”

  “He’s close enough.” He moved to the one wall in his room not covered in paper scraps. “I hate watching it,” he whispered. “Them and Della. It’s all so happy and easy.”

  Sophie moved to his side.

  He didn’t look at her as he added, “I used to wish I was a Vacker. I’d be over at their house, dreading the moment I had to go home. But nope. I’m a Sencen. And it just keeps getting worse and worse.”

  No words existed to make anything better. So she reached for his hand.

  On the wall in front of them was a particularly small note with only three words:

  Who am I?

  “Easy question,” she said, taking it down. “You’re Keefe Sencen. Master mischief-maker. Tormenter of principals. Frequenter of Detention. And one of the best guys I know.”

  He raised one eyebrow as he turned to study her. “I’m not the best?”

  “It’s a three-way tie. And you’re also always there when your friends need you. So how about you let one of us be there for you for a change?”

  He looked away again. “You really think you can handle it?”

  “Psh, I can handle anything.” She usually didn’t feel comfortable making such bold, confident statements. But for once it actually felt right. “Please? Don’t keep doing this alone.”

  Keefe sighed. “Okay . . . but remember—you promised you wouldn’t hate me.”

  “I did. And that’s one promise I’ll have no problem keeping.”

  “We’ll see . . .” He looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead he turned away.

  “So do you want to get started now?” she asked.

  “Not really.” He rubbed his eyes, and the dark circles seemed to sink deeper into his skin. “I’ve been up all night the last few days. And the one time I did sleep was with the fathomlethe. Dex was right about the dreams.” He tangled his arms around himself and shuddered. “But I don’t know if I can fall asleep.”

  “Well, you’re never going to relax in this hive-of-crazy!”

  She grabbed a handful of notes and pulled them off the nearest wall.

  “Don’t—”

  “I’m just getting them out of sight so we can organize them. This was you working alone. Now you have me.”

  “I do.”

  Sophie couldn’t tell if that was a statement or a question.

  “Try to rest,” she told him. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’m done cleaning up.”

  Keefe opened his mouth to argue but the words were swallowed by a yawn. He crawled into bed and buried his face in his pillow. Sophie resisted the urge to tease him about drooling.

  It took her longer than she’d expected to de-serial-killer his room. But by the time she’d pulled down the last note, Keefe’s breathing had slowed. She listened to the rhythmic sound as she stacked the tattered pages together, wishing she could clear away his worries as easily as she could clear away the scraps.

  “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she turned to leave. “You deserve them.”

  Keefe didn’t move, and his breathing stayed steady. But when she turned off the lights, she could’ve sworn his lips were smiling.

  “How troubled is he?” Mr. Forkle asked, giving Sophie a minor heart attack as she entered the boys’ main room. He stood by the fire pit, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

  “Mr. Sencen,” he clarified. “How concerned should we be?”

  “What do you mean by ‘concerned’?” Sophie asked.

  “You did see the state of his room just now, yes?”

  Sophie looked away. “I took down all the notes, so hopefully that’ll let him sleep. And he agreed to let me search his memories and record them.”

  Mr. Forkle traced his fingers along his chin.

  “Do you think we’re going to find a clue about the Neverseen in his memories?” she asked, the words so quiet she could barely hear them.

  “It seems likely. No one keeps up a pretense perfectly. In fact, I’ve made several slips I’m stunned you didn’t catch.”

  “Like what?” Sophie asked.

  A smile was all he gave her.

  “I’m also inclined to believe Gethen wasn’t exaggerating about the Neverseen having plans for Mr. Sencen. He’s a very talented boy. But as for whether we’ll find clues . . . well . . . searching an entire lifetime is a daunting task. Either way, I’m counting on you to keep me informed of anything concerning—and by ‘concerning,’ I mean anything relating to our fatal flaw. You’ve likely heard of the concept in your human studies. Elves all bear the same one.”

  “Arrogance?” Sophie guessed.

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t look at me as you said that. And that is a vice. Our fatal flaw is guilt. We all react to it in different ways. In Mr. Sencen’s case, it appears to have set him on a quest for understanding. Such quests often end at a crossroads, and should that be the case I cannot say which path Mr. Sencen will choose.”

  “You realize that makes zero sense, right?”

  He shrugged. “Let us hope it remains that way. But keep your eyes open to warning signs. And be sure to get some rest. Tomorrow will be very . . . complicated.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  DON’T SCREAM,” A deep voice told Sophie as she passed through the breakfast area on her way for another early morning river walk.

  Of course she screamed—but who wouldn’t scream if they found a strange figure lurking in the shadows? Especially if that figure happened to look like a giant two-legged poodle?

  Curly white fur covered his body, leaving only his dark blue eyes and pink lips exposed.

  “W-who are you?” she whispered.

  The poodle figure rubbed his furry arms. “Apparently my code name is Coiffe.”

  “I hope that means you’re part of the Black Swan,” Sophie said.

  “Would I be here if I weren’t?” He stepped closer and she backed up. “If I meant to harm you, Sophie, I would’ve grabbed you when you entered the gazebo. I had plenty of time, and I’m much stronger than you.”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  “Yes.” He scratched his shoulder, then his chest, then his arms and legs. “Argh—I swear I’ve picked up ichrites in this infernal fur.”

  “Ichrites?” Sophie asked.

  “A type of insect that feeds on unicorn blood.” He leaned against the post of the gazebo, rubbing his back like a bear scratching on a tree. “My involvement with the Black Swan is usually more hands off. But today I must play babysitter, so I get to be this.” He waved his hands at his fur before going back to scratching, and Sophie got a feeling she wasn’t going to be a fan of Coiffe.

  “Sophie?” Dex shouted, racing down the stairs two at a time. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”

  Fitz and Biana were right behind him, with Keefe a few steps farther back. They froze when they spotted Coiffe.

  “Is this guy bothering you?” Fitz asked.

  “Is that a guy?” Dex added.

  “He says he’s with the Black Swan,” Sophie told them.

  “Couldn’t anyone say that?” Fitz asked.

  Coiffe rolled his eyes and pulled a monocle pendant like theirs out of the curls of his fur. “Happy now?”

/>   “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any weirder,” Biana mumbled.

  Dex moved closer to Coiffe and squinted at his fur. “What’d you do, mix a bunch of Curly-dew with Macho-Macho and a couple drops of Body Warmer?”

  “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t be surprised if your father’s ridiculous store was involved,” Coiffe muttered. “Only Kesler Dizznee would waste time figuring out how to give someone a fur coat.”

  Yeah . . . Sophie definitely wasn’t going to be a fan of Coiffe.

  “My father is one of the most talented alchemist’s in our world,” Dex snapped.

  “He is,” Coiffe agreed. “But even you must admit he gravitates toward the absurd.”

  “That’s intentional,” Sophie told him.

  Kesler kept Slurps and Burps strange to make the stuck-up nobility uncomfortable.

  “So wait,” Keefe jumped in. “Are you naked right now? Because I think I speak for everyone when I say: Yuck.”

  Sophie smiled, relieved to see Keefe acting more like his old self. Shadows still darkened his eyes, but his smirk had returned with full force.

  “If you must know,” Coiffe snapped, “I’m wearing a bathing suit under all of this. You try wearing ten pounds of fur and see if you feel like putting a cloak on top of it—especially with the way it tugs. And shouldn’t there be one more of you? I was told there would be six.”

  “There are.” Della appeared next to him.

  He scrambled back, tripping over the black bags piled at his feet. “Ms. Vacker. How ironic to see you among our ranks, considering the task we are about to perform.”

  “And what task would that be?” Della asked, not bothering to correct her name.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He tossed them each one of the black bundles. “Get dressed. It’s time to see if you’re talented enough to break into Exile.”

  “This isn’t the desert,” Sophie said as they reappeared in a forest high in the mountains.

  “How astute of you,” Coiffe told her, leading them up a narrow path. A thin layer of snow had turned the mountain gray and crunchy, and Sophie snuggled deeper into her dark cloak, glad the heavy fabric was extra warm.

  “Question,” Keefe said after they’d climbed for several minutes. “Why do all the trees look like they want to eat us?”

  He wasn’t wrong. The gnarled, bulbous trunks reached for them with clawed, branchy hands, and the knots in the wood looked like eyes.

  Sophie checked each one, squinting as far into the distance as she could, wondering if she’d find any with a force field.

  “You okay?” Dex asked as Sophie tripped over the edge of her heavy cloak.

  “Yeah. I just wish this thing fit better.”

  “Tell me about it.” His sleeves completely covered his hands.

  “Are you sure this is the right way?” she asked Coiffe as the forest thinned around them. “Last time we entered Exile through a sand pit.”

  “And last time you had permission to be there,” Coiffe reminded her. “Do you really think you can walk in the main entrance?”

  “No. But it’s hard to know what’s going on when no one’s told us the plan,” she snapped.

  “That was not my decision.”

  They passed several more trees before Coiffe doubled back. “Finally,” he said, tracing his furry fingers down a sun-bleached trunk. “It takes a keen eye to find the trail.”

  “Yeah, well, did those keen eyes of yours also see you just stepped in a big pile of sasquatch poop?” Keefe asked.

  Coiffe muttered something about the Black Swan testing his patience as he attempted to scrape his furry foot clean. Then he led them west, counting eight trees before turning north and counting four more. They repeated the process through several more twists and turns, until they reached a tree on the edge of a slope.

  It wasn’t the biggest tree they’d seen, but Sophie could tell it was ancient. Its curled branches stretched toward the clouds, daring a storm to take it down.

  Coiffe knocked on the lumpy trunk, making five quick thumps, two soft pats, and seven slaps in a strange rhythm.

  “And now,” he said, “I’m free of further responsibility.”

  “You’re leaving?” Fitz asked as Coiffe pulled a crystal pendant from his tangled fur.

  Coiffe laughed. “Surely the Champions of the Everest Ambush have no reason to fear an empty forest—though it doesn’t feel empty, does it? Better hope whatever’s nearby isn’t hungry.”

  “He’s kidding, right?” Biana asked as Coiffe glittered away.

  “I’m sure he is,” Della said. But she scanned the forest carefully.

  “The Black Swan needs a better screening process for their helpers,” Dex decided.

  Sophie tucked her hands into her cloak pockets to keep them warm, and her fingers grazed the edge of Kenric’s cache. She’d figured that breaking into the world’s most secure prison was the kind of place where it might be smart to have a powerful bargaining chip.

  “Anyone have any theories on where we are?” Fitz asked. “I’m guessing somewhere human, since I don’t see any Pures.”

  The Pures were palmlike trees with fan-shaped leaves that filtered any pollutants out of the air. Every elvin city and manor had at least one.

  Sophie hoped they were in a Neutral Territory and continued scanning the forest for any trace of the Psionipath. But something about the tree Coiffe had chosen felt familiar, and after a moment she remembered where she’d seen it.

  “I think we’re in California,” she said, “and one of these trees—maybe even this one—is the Methuselah. Humans think it’s the oldest living thing on the planet. But clearly they’ve never met Bronte.”

  “Ha! Good one, Foster,” Keefe told her. “How old is the Miss-use-a-what-a tree?”

  “Methuselah,” Sophie corrected. “And something like forty-seven hundred years.”

  Fitz whistled. “That might be older than Bronte. But not older than Fallon Vacker, our great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. He’s one of the three founding members of the Council, and served for about a thousand years, before he fell in love with my great-great-great-great—”

  “Yeah yeah, your really old grandma,” Dex interrupted. “We get it. You guys have lots of super-old, super-important relatives. Whoop-de-do.”

  “Uh, the Vacker legacy is one of a kind,” Fitz snapped back.

  “Why is that?” Sophie asked, making Dex grin. “I mean, I know the Vackers are legendary—but what I don’t get is . . . if all elves have an indefinite lifespan, doesn’t everyone have a bunch of super-old, super-important, pointy-eared relatives?”

  “Ancient, yes,” Della agreed. “But as Fitz said, the original Council was only three members. And they added Emissaries much later. So for a long time only a handful of elves were classified as nobility. Hence the Vacker legacy. It can be quite intimidating, actually. That’s why I initially rejected your father’s advances. I wasn’t sure I wanted that kind of scrutiny.”

  “Ugh, can we please not talk about you and dad and advances?” Fitz asked.

  “Seriously,” Biana agreed.

  “You mean you don’t want me to tell you about the first time your father kissed me?” Della teased, laughing as she pulled her children into a squirmy hug.

  Keefe looked away.

  “So,” Sophie said, changing the subject for him, “do you think the tree is supposed to do something? We’ve been standing here for a pretty long time and nothing’s happened.”

  “That’s because you haven’t been paying attention,” Calla said, leaping from the top branches and landing gracefully on her toes.

  “Looks like those old bones still have some spring in them,” another gnome said, emerging from among the tree’s roots. It took Sophie a second to recognize her as Amisi, the other gnome who lived at Alluveterre.

  “Sorry we couldn’t bring you here ourselves,” Calla told them
. “It took longer than expected to gather the others.”

  “Others?” Sophie asked.

  Four gnomes Sophie didn’t recognize appeared among the branches.

  “What are we all doing here?” Della asked as the newest gnomes leaped to the ground.

  “Waiting for us.”

  They spun around to find Mr. Forkle and Squall marching up behind them. Wraith appeared soon after, followed by Blur.

  Granite arrived a few moments after. “Sorry I’m late. King Enki was still perfecting the carvings.” He held up six sleek black pendants cut with jagged facets.

  Magsidian.

  Only dwarves could mine the rare mineral, and the dwarven guards in Exile could sense its presence—or lack thereof—and determine if someone had permission to be there. The stone also changed its power depending on how it had been cut. Sophie had seen it draw water from the air, affect the pull of a compass, and create special beams of light. But she’d never seen Magsidian cut so sharply.

  Granite passed the pendants to Sophie, Fitz, Dex, Keefe, Biana, and Della.

  “You guys don’t need them?” Sophie asked, noting that the Collective members also weren’t wearing heavy cloaks.

  “We have other protections,” Mr. Forkle said. “Has everyone been introduced?”

  “Sorry, I got distracted,” Calla said. “This is Brier, Kloris, Nesrin, and Vered.”

  “I thought we needed nine,” Granite said.

  Calla twiddled her thumbs. “This was the best I could gather. After what happened in the Strixian Plains—”

  “What happened in the Strixian Plains?” Sophie interrupted.

  “That’s another Neutral Territory, isn’t it?” Della added.

  “Yes,” Mr. Forkle said, through a sigh that made his shoulders slump. “It’s where a family of gnomes recently contacted the plague.”

  “We thought it would be best to inform you after today’s mission,” Granite said when they all shouted “WHAT?”

  “We needed to make sure your minds were focused,” Wraith added.

  “So you’ve been lying to us?” Dex asked.

  “Not lying. Withholding,” Mr. Forkle corrected. “And you’re overestimating the gravity of this news. Only one more family of gnomes has been added to the quarantine in Lumenaria.”