Mr. Alvarez, if that was even his name, broke out his favorite herbal tea to celebrate their partnership once they made camp. Yuki woke up the next afternoon with a splitting headache. Mr. Alvarez was gone, along with Yuki’s horse and all his belongings but the clothes he wore. At least Kogatana had managed to evade him. She was licking Yuki’s face when he woke up.
Yuki had tracked the prospector till nightfall, burning with fury, then reluctantly gave up. The man was long gone, and Yuki couldn’t survive long in the desert without weapons or water. He’d been forced to walk back to Las Anclas, feeling like a fool with every step, and then had to face crowds wanting all the humiliating details.
He’d had to return to school, he still hadn’t finished repaying his mom and the Rileys, and the only prospector to visit since had arrived in a full suit of blue armor, claiming that the reflective paint she’d formulated would make her invisible to the deadly crystal trees that surrounded the distant ruined city.
Yuki had desperately hoped that she was an eccentric genius rather than desert-crazy. He’d even let himself indulge in fantasies about exploring the city in his own suit of armor. But of course, as everyone had warned her, she hadn’t been invisible at all. Now a new sapphire tree grew at the edge of the crystal forest.
Fuego balked, and Yuki consciously relaxed his body. The red-gold gelding moved onward.
“Prospecting’s not the only way to see the world,” Paco said. “You could sign on to a trading ship, the next time one comes around.”
Trading boat, thought Yuki, but didn’t correct him. No one in Las Anclas had ever seen a real ship.
“You swim like a fish,” Paco continued. “And you fight like—like a Ranger. Traders always have guards to protect their wares. You could be a guard.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
Even to Paco, there were some things Yuki couldn’t talk about. His throat tightened at the thought of living on a boat, smelling the salt air and rocking on the waves, and never losing sight of shore. Being constantly reminded of the true deep ocean in a craft that could never get there would be like dying of thirst with a full canteen just out of reach. It was hard enough living on the coast, with the ocean breeze blowing straight into his bedroom window.
“Traders don’t explore,” Yuki said. “They only go back and forth along the coast, buying and selling the same goods at the same towns. I want to see new things. Find new things.”
Kogatana nuzzled him again. Paco glanced at her, and Yuki could practically see him decide to change the subject.
Paco fished in his pack and held out a tamale, still wrapped in corn husks. “From Luc’s. He handed them out last night after we finished playing.”
“Thanks. Sorry I missed it. I had to help Mrs. Riley with Tucker. He got his hoof tangled in the fence, and he was panicking.”
“I figured it was something like that. We’re playing again on Tuesday.”
“I’ll be there.”
Yuki liked music, but he loved watching Paco. Most people dedicated themselves to work and training, and thought of things like music as something to squeeze into their spare time, if they had spare time. But while Paco worked and trained without complaint, he poured his heart and soul into his drumming. Watching him play was like watching Paco’s mom, Sera Diaz, sparring, or his own mother shooting, or Paco’s apprenticeship master, Mr. Ahmed, blowing glass: observing a master at work.
Yuki choked down the tamale. Five years since he’d been shipwrecked at Las Anclas, and he still hadn’t gotten used to having his mouth and throat burned by chili peppers. But since Paco was watching, he said again, “Thanks,” and added, “it’s good.”
The reverberating toll of a bell cut through the desert air—the signal for Lockdown.
Yuki jerked his head up, the tamale falling from his hand. He halted Fuego and squinted against the lowering sun at the town walls half a mile away. His distance vision was as sharp as his close-up sight was blurry. He made out the sentries looking back and forth. Whatever the problem was, they obviously couldn’t see it either.
Julio rode up beside him. “Let’s go to high ground. We’ll have a better view.”
Near the top of the hill, they entered a copse of juniper, eucalyptus, and copper-barked manzanita. A few shrubs had black leaves with glowing yellow veins. As Fuego brushed against them, the “leaves” took flight, leaving the shrub a bare gray skeleton. A citruslike scent filled the air, masking the pungent smell of eucalyptus. When Yuki glanced back, the butterflies had settled back down, and the illusion was complete again. Yuki had never seen this before, nor the brightly colored scorpions nearby that seemed to guard a pulsating blue fungus.
He lifted his scrutiny past the walls of Las Anclas that rose up like bars in a cage, to the plains and hills and maze of arroyos that made up the desert. Someday he’d be out there, away from the crowds and the sameness and the reminders of everything he’d lost. Just him and his horse and his rat, exploring ancient ruins, discovering fascinating relics, and studying the ways of strange animals and plants. Every step would be into new territory.
“Rein up,” Julio ordered.
Everyone dismounted. They’d reached the top, but it wasn’t quite high enough to see inside the town walls.
Yuki indicated the tallest tree, a thick juniper. “Shall I climb it?”
“Do it,” said Julio.
“Kogatana, stay.” She twitched her pink nose at Yuki, but stayed on her perch.
He climbed, shoving past the pungent needles until he could see. There was no fighting in the streets, and nothing seemed to be damaged. From this perspective, Las Anclas appeared insignificant, a small part of a far larger world.
He started down. About ten feet from the ground his palm punched through the bark as if it were paper. Something gave an ear-scraping screech, then a line of pain slashed across his palm. Yuki jerked back instinctively, and lost his grip. He twisted in the air and landed in a crouch, his teeth banging together.
Owls launched out of the hollow, slicing down with their talons and the razor-sharp quills at their wingtips.
Yuki’s sword and crossbow were still on his horse. He made a dash for Fuego. But before he got there, an owl dove at Sidewinder, claws tangling in the horse’s antlers. The owl screeched, and Sidewinder squealed and bolted. Every horse followed, stampeding into the woods.
He watched in dismay as Fuego galloped off, Kogatana clinging to her perch. He drew the only weapon he had left, the knife at his belt. The useless knife—owls swooped overhead, easily evading his reach.
Paco snatched up a fallen branch and swung at an owl striking at Julio’s eyes. It veered away, then grabbed the branch in its talons. Paco tried to shake off the owl, but it held fast, flapping its wings and screeching. He flung down the branch and went to grab another. An owl dove at Paco’s unprotected back, its wingtips slicing down. Yuki lunged out with his knife, knowing he’d be too late.
A crossbow twanged. The owl thumped to the ground. Mrs. Callahan had managed to grab her bow before the horses bolted.
“Fall back!” yelled Julio. “They’re protecting their nest.”
The patrol ran into the woods. The owls didn’t pursue them. They found the horses in a glen, clustered around Fuego.
Belatedly, Yuki reported, “I didn’t see anything going on in town.”
“It’s probably a false alarm. But let’s play it safe.” Julio began pointing at patrollers. “You three stay with the horses. You two come with me. And you . . .” Yuki’s elation when Julio pointed to him and Paco dissipated when Julio’s finger moved to include Mrs. Callahan.
He sent them to a boulder-strewn promontory. “Keep watch over there. Stay low, and don’t create a silhouette for someone to shoot at.”
Yuki sat in a narrow niche between two boulders, the only place that offered both cover and a view of the plains below. He pointed to a smaller promonto
ry higher up. “Kogatana, watch.”
The rat scurried off.
Paco settled down next to him, and Mrs. Callahan plumped herself down on his other side. She wriggled into a comfortable position, shoving him against Paco. Yuki gritted his teeth, embarrassed, then forced himself to relax. He felt Paco vibrate with silent laughter.
“Are you okay?” Paco’s breath was warm on his ear. “Your hand is bleeding.”
“It’s fine.”
Mrs. Callahan snapped, “What were you thinking, Yuki, sticking your hand into an owl’s nest?”
He shrugged and twisted his handkerchief around his palm. How much more of a signal could he send? On the Taka, people had often been in tighter quarters than this, but that only made them more mindful of not intruding on each other.
Mrs. Callahan was still going on about Yuki’s carelessness, and he tried to shut her out. It wasn’t hard, when he could focus on the press of Paco’s arm, his body so close that Yuki could inhale his scent of clean sweat.
“That nest was perfectly camouflaged, and he was climbing down,” Paco pointed out. “You wouldn’t have seen it either.”
Mrs. Callahan ignored him. “Yuki, you should have sent Kogatana to scout. Isn’t that what you have her for? Your problem is that you only make an effort with things that you care about. Take that garden of yours. I saw four giant tomato worms munching away yesterday.”
Yuki pretended to examine the slash across his palm. Of course she’d been watching his garden. Everyone watched everything. If he locked himself in his room, pulled the curtains, and coughed, the next morning three people would offer him honey and lemon juice.
“And dandelions everywhere,” she went on. “Isn’t the weeding your—”
“Mrs. Callahan!” When she stopped talking, startled, Paco said, “Thank you for shooting that owl.”
She looked slightly abashed. “Oh, well, don’t mention it. Anyone who had their crossbow would have done the same.”
As silence fell, Yuki felt Paco shift his weight. Strong brown fingers took the handkerchief from Yuki’s hand, where he’d been twisting and twisting it. Paco untwisted the handkerchief, then rewrapped and tied it securely. “I should have asked,” he said softly. “Sorry. I know you don’t like that.”
Yuki shook his head. “I don’t mind.”
With Mrs. Callahan listening, he couldn’t add, I don’t mind when it’s you.
4
Jennie
JENNIE RILEY PROWLED ALONG THE SENTRY WALK at the back wall, crossbow loaded and ready. Her neck twinged as she scanned from the golden hills to the east, across the fields of corn and vegetables, to the desert sands that dropped away toward the thin line of the ocean, glimmering silver in the midday sun.
She spotted a wisp of dust rising up, and tensed even more—someone coming around for a flank attack? But it was only a deer, taking advantage of the deserted bean fields to munch on the crops. Except for the honey-birds darting back to their hive in a mesa oak, all else was still.
Though nothing had happened for hours, her muscles were still locked for action. The Rangers said that waiting for battle was harder than fighting. She bet that they were right, but she wouldn’t find out today. Even if the Rangers were ordered to ride out, Jennie would stay behind, stuck on the wall. Waiting.
She spotted a rock lying on the sentry walk, ready to trip someone. She held out her hand, tensing slightly as she pulled with her mind. The rock leaped up to smack into her palm, and she tossed it over the wall.
When Lockdown first rang, her blood had fizzed like ginger beer, but after hours’ worth of boredom, it had gone flat. So had everyone else’s, apparently. All along the wall, people were chatting, wiping sweaty faces, and watching the hawks circling lazily in the sky.
If I were King Voske, this is when I’d attack.
That was the one thing she wouldn’t prefer to waiting. One of her grandfathers had been killed when Voske had first tried to take Las Anclas, eighteen years ago. Jennie had been a baby.
She pushed her thoughts in a more cheerful direction—they had a stranger in town, and that was always interesting. Maybe she could interview him for next week’s Heraldo de Las Anclas. Jennie loved it when Mr. Tsai, the printer and librarian, used one of her stories in the one-page newspaper. “You always manage to find an interesting angle,” he had told her. “Better than the usual ‘Six-Eyed Mutant Goat Spotted by Mill!’ or ‘Whistling Zucchini Sprouts in Olive Grove, Dogs Howl!’”
Jennie’s little sister Dee appeared, in company with her two best friends. They were on duty to fetch and carry ammunition, but you’d never know it from their bored expressions. The weaver, Ms. Salazar, also looked like she wished she were somewhere else, with her aura of glittering light illuminating how awkwardly she held her bow.
To Jennie’s amusement, the Terrible Three arranged themselves in order of height. They were nothing alike—Dee with her hair clipped into a cap of tight black curls, Nhi Tran chewing on a long brown braid, and Z Kabbani flicking a dead leaf from her red-brown bangs—and yet the way they all looked hopefully at Jennie made them seem more similar than different.
“Do you need more arrows?” Dee asked. “I could run and get some.”
“We all could,” Z said.
Nhi nodded so hard that her braids bounced against her skinny body.
Jennie tried not to laugh as she hefted her crossbow. “Not till I’ve shot some of the ones I have.”
Nhi let out a dramatic sigh. “I thought a Lockdown would be more exciting. But I bet it’s exciting where the Rangers are!”
Z said sarcastically, “At their training grounds, waiting for orders?”
Dee poked Jennie in the ribs. “Is that where they are?”
Dee and Nhi fixed her with expectant gazes. Z scowled at the adobe floor as though a secret message was carved into it.
“Probably.” Jennie waited for them to get to the point. In her experience both as a sibling and as the interim teacher, younger sisters were not exactly subtle. Or patient.
Z scowled harder. So she was the one with the problem.
Nhi lifted her chin high. “The day I turn sixteen, I’m going straight to Sera Diaz to say, ‘Captain, I’m ready to start Ranger training.’”
“You better hope you don’t Change first,” retorted Z.
Jennie stepped in. “I’m Changed.” A flurry of sparks arose as Ms. Salazar sent a sharp glance her way. “I’ve been training with the Rangers for two years, and not once have they said anything about it.”
“See?” added Nhi. “Captain Diaz isn’t prejudiced.”
Z muttered, “She isn’t. But everybody knows that Defense Chief Preston is. And he’s the Rangers’ boss.” She sucked in a breath and glared at Jennie. “I don’t see why you have to be a Ranger. You were going to be a teacher. You’re good at it. You’re the best teacher we ever had.”
Jennie said gently, “That’s not very fair to Grandma Wolfe.”
“Grandma Wolfe was boring,” Z informed her toes.
Dee grinned. “It wasn’t boring when she set the schoolhouse on fire!”
“Not funny, Dee,” said Jennie.
At first Grandma Wolfe had been able to rush outside when she sensed a hot flash coming, and the uncontrollable new power that had come with her menopause had harmlessly set fallen leaves and tumbleweeds aflame. Then, three months ago, her desk had exploded in a fireball.
No one was hurt, and the kids were thrilled. But by nightfall, Grandma Wolfe—who had taught generations of Las Anclas kids, and loved it—had been moved outside the walls, into the house of nonflammable adobe that had been built generations ago, for a different person with a similar, out-of-control Change. And Jennie had been asked by the council to postpone joining the Rangers and take over teaching until Grandma Wolfe’s other apprentice, Laura Hernandez, was ready.
; Z sniffed. “Laura is even more boring.”
“I like Laura,” Dee said instantly.
Nhi nodded. “I think those black claws of hers are cool.”
Z crossed her arms. “I didn’t say she wasn’t nice, or that her claws aren’t cool, I said she’s boring. And bossy.” She stared accusingly at her friends.
“Laura’s only sixteen,” Jennie said quickly. “Give her time.”
“You were never bossy. Anyway, I don’t see why you want to be a Ranger when you know Defense Chief Preston hates Changed people.”
Jennie reached beneath her leather armor to pluck at her sweat-soaked shirt, wishing she was with the Rangers. “People change.” She lifted her voice so Ms. Salazar could hear. “And I don’t mean in the ‘get powers’ way. I may be the only Ranger candidate with a Change power, but Mr. Preston invited me himself. Once Laura’s ready to teach, they’ll swear me in.”
Z sniffed. “You think so? Look how quick Mr. Preston was to kick his own mother-in-law out of town!”
Jennie kept her voice even. “Grandma Wolfe was not kicked out. She agreed to go. If she ever learns to control her power, she’ll be back.”
She let out a sigh of relief when Dee pointed over the wall, shrieking, “Oh! Oh! I see something over there!”
The three rushed to peer recklessly over the shields. The vines groped for their toes, and a tendril that had escaped trimming grabbed Nhi’s dangling braid and yanked. They began squealing in mock terror and excitement.
A machete whistled down, slicing off the tendril. Nhi’s shriek was entirely real as she jumped back. Jennie grinned up at her boyfriend, Indra Vardam, as he slid his machete back into its sheath.
The heat made her feel grubby and sticky, but Indra’s sheen of sweat only made his black hair glisten and his shirt cling to the muscles of his chest and upper arms. She couldn’t wait till they were both off-duty. Maybe they could get some time alone at the beach before the sunset bell called everyone back inside the gates.
“Nhi, Z, Dee, get back to your station,” Indra said sternly. But the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave him away.
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