Secret in the Stone

by Kamilla Benko

  Claire couldn’t begin to guess. The chimera hadn’t moved in three hundred years.

  She came up beside Sophie and this time, when she peered over the stall door, she didn’t lurch away. A chimera lion lay curled inside, looking just like a house cat taking a nap on the radiator—if a house cat had a raccoon tail, antlers, and mouse ears, that is. In the wavering light, the copper of the chimera gleamed, creating an illusion of movement where there was none. Whatever Forger crafted this beast hundreds of years ago had taken time to etch in the look of luscious manes and a fuzzy tail. Its claws, though, were still sharp.

  Claire frowned.

  Had the claws been out a moment ago?

  She took a step back and looked over her shoulder for Sophie. Her sister was by the door now, trying to figure out how to lock it. Suddenly, there was a loud screech.

  “What are you doing?” Claire whisper-called. “We need to be quiet.”

  Sophie’s head snapped up, and she stared back at her, eyes huge.

  “It wasn’t me,” she whispered.

  Apprehension itched between Claire’s shoulder blades. Slowly, she turned back to the stall … just in time to see the lion chimera open its mouth, copper teeth shining—and roar.

  CHAPTER

  20

  The chimera surged to its feet with the sound of a hundred clattering pots and pans. Its barrel chest pounded at the door and a jaw unhinged again, letting out its rusty roar.

  Forgetting they were in hiding, forgetting they were the captives of a strange place, Claire screamed.

  As the chimera rammed itself against the stall door again, she stumbled back into something warm and solid. Strong hands suddenly gripped Claire’s arms and from somewhere above her head, she heard a new voice say, “Sit, Lixoon! Sit!”

  There was the crack of a whip, and the chimera’s jaws snapped shut. It tilted its massive head, considering the command.

  Claire held her breath as—ever so slowly—it sank back down onto its haunches. The metal beast was still as could be, except for the racoonish tail that whipped back and forth, like an annoyed cat’s.

  The hands let go of Claire’s shoulders, and without bothering to look back, Claire sprinted to Sophie, who had huddled against the far wall. Sophie’s hand reached out for hers, tugging her closer. It was only then that Claire turned around to see who had commanded the chimera.

  A woman wearing a simple green dress stood in front of them, an emerald scarf draped elegantly over her shoulders. Her short white hair fluffed above her head in a poof, giving her the resemblance of a dandelion gone to seed. She seemed unarmed, but the stern Lieutenant Ravel stood on her other side, recoiling his long whip.

  “That’s them,” Ravel said grimly.

  “I see,” the woman responded. She stared at the children, her blue eyes pensive beneath the rather odd wreath that perched on her head like a strange bird. It seemed to be woven from flowers and twigs, though here and there Claire caught the gleam of gold and a few sparkly bits that glittered like diamonds. Perhaps they were.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she admonished them. “You were supposed to stay in the Quarantine Tents.”

  “Yes,” Ravel agreed. “You’ve wasted everyone’s time.” He beckoned. “I’d advise that you move away from that stall—Serpio is only half as friendly as Lixoon.”

  Startled, Claire looked into the stall behind her. A fanged chimera with a scorpion’s tail slowly tilted its head, looking up at her from where it was curled on the ground. Though chimera didn’t have eyes, only shallow dents in their copper armor where the eyes would be on a normal creature, Claire had the distinct sense that it was watching her.

  She sprang away from Serpio’s stall, her mind scrambling for answers. For a little less than three hundred years, ever since the unicorns had been hunted to extinction, the chimera had been still, rusted by time and un-oiled by magic.

  The unicorn.

  Claire’s heart galloped in her chest.

  Though she hadn’t found the unicorn last night, it still must be near—or had been near, in order to have woken the chimera. They were on the right path!

  “Who are you?” Sophie demanded, still standing by the stall door. “Why should we trust you?”

  “That’s no way to talk to Mayor Nadia,” Ravel said gruffly, but Mayor Nadia’s expression remained politely puzzled.

  “Why would you not trust us?” she asked, her hands spreading wide. “It’s we who saved your lives from the wraiths. It’s we who put you safely in a hammock while the effects of wraith-burn wore off.”

  “Who,” Claire whispered, trying to speak up despite her mouth suddenly going dry, “exactly are you?”

  Mayor Nadia reached out a hand to stroke Serpio’s nose. “We’re what all lost souls seek and young hearts yearn for. We’re what you’ve been journeying for. We’re …”—she paused dramatically—“… Woven Root.”

  Claire didn’t really know what to say.

  The old woman had said the words with utter certainty, as if Claire had asked what teachers did, and she’d responded with “teach.” Not sure what to do, Claire did what she always did in times of confusion: she looked at Sophie. Sophie, however, was looking right back at her, equally baffled.

  The old woman’s eyebrows shot up. “My goodness,” she murmured. “Is it possible … could it be … you weren’t looking for us?”

  “Mayor,” Ravel said, clearly unnerved. “If we had known, we would have never—”

  Nadia waved her hand, cutting him off. “What’s done is done, Lieutenant,” she said, the lines around her mouth deepening. “The girls are here, and that’s a knot that can’t be undone.”

  She turned to face them, and as she did so, Claire heard a high, faint tinkling. Looking at the scarves, she realized some of them had tiny bells sewn into their hems.

  “And here,” Nadia said, with an extravagant sweep of her arms, as if she were a ringmaster in a circus, “is the last place in Arden where jumbled magic is free to exist. We welcome you to the last community of alchemists.”

  Alchemists. Jumbled magic.

  Not so long ago, these strange words would have been just that: strange words. But Claire had been in Arden long enough now (so, so long) that she knew exactly who the alchemists were—and how the rest of Arden treated them. Both of Sena’s parents had been alchemists … before one had been executed and the other imprisoned.

  Sophie must have been reminded of Sena, too. “Are you really?” she asked, eyes bright with curiosity. “I mean—you’re actually alchemists? Do you know the Steeles?”

  The question dangled in the air, and Claire suddenly had the distinct impression that Sophie had said something wrong, but she wasn’t sure what or why. It was something to do with the stiffness Nadia suddenly held herself with, as if she were no longer human but a metal rod.

  “We did,” Nadia said at last, inclining her head. “Mathieu was a very kind man, and Sylvia burned with such brightness. The two greatest alchemists of our time. Such a tragedy what happened.” She smiled sadly. “So you did intend to find us, if you know the Steeles.”

  Claire opened her mouth to say no, but Sophie spoke first. “Yes,” she said emphatically. “They told us about Woven Root long ago, and we knew we had to come.”

  Nadia nodded. “That’s how it is for many of us. Many seek Woven Root for different things: to explore their magic in freedom, or for protection from persecution. I myself came seeking treasure, though I found much more than that here. I discovered that freedom to live the way you want is its own kind of treasure, more valuable even than ancient masterpieces and works of great art. Now, please, your names?”

  “I’m Andrea,” Sophie said promptly, giving her middle name, then gestured to Claire. “And she’s Elaina. We’re so glad we’ve finally found Woven Root. I have so many questions!”

  “All of which will be answered, eventually. After we get you both changed and fed. We can’t have our guests looking …” Na
dia scanned them up and down. “… like that.”

  Nadia commanded the girls to follow her, leaving Lieutenant Ravel and the dimness of the chimera stables behind.

  “Why did you lie? We don’t have time for this,” Claire murmured under her breath to Sophie as they trailed Nadia a couple of feet behind.

  “Yes we do,” Sophie insisted, but only after making sure Nadia was too busy talking to another member of the Wraith Watch to listen to them. “First of all, did you see those chimera? That’s powerful magic. And did you see how the riders were able to quickly encircle the wraiths? They’re clearly trained at tracking magical creatures. Maybe they can help us with our tracking skills. Third, this place is hidden. We can figure out our next steps here without worrying about the Gemmers or Royalists finding us.”

  Her death will be the key to our victory.

  Mira Fray’s voice resonated in Claire’s thoughts. Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe they deserved a break, somewhere safe both from wraiths and Royalists like Jasper or Fray.

  “This way!” Mayor Nadia called over her shoulder to them as the two members of Woven Root’s Wraith Watch finished their business with her and walked away. Sophie and Claire followed her as they rounded a cluster of tall tents.

  “Oh!” Claire gasped, while next to her, Sophie let out a whistle.

  “Exhibition’s Row,” Mayor Nadia said, and Claire could tell she was pleased with their reaction. “Best not to touch anything here without first asking permission.”

  In the bright light of morning, they could clearly see Woven Root’s central square in all its jumbled splendor. Rows of brightly colored tents lined up across from one another like dancers preparing to take their final bow, as merchants called out gaily to one another, trying to entice their neighbor to leave their wares for just a moment and come see what they had to offer.

  And the offerings!

  Woven bookmarks that never lost their place or fell out, because they rooted themselves to the page. Pillows that promised to always stay cool on even the hottest summer nights. Seeds that were said to grow into willows that had ribbons instead of leaves. Everywhere Claire looked, she spotted something new, something wondrous, something impossible.

  Claire wished she had her paint set. Or at least some felt markers. She’d even make do with a box of crayons, because the merchant tents of Woven Root demanded to be drawn.

  Nadia smiled as they wove through the booths with opened mouths.

  “You’ll have time to explore before the welcome feast,” she promised as she ushered them up a small incline and toward a blue and purple striped silk tent. “They’ll be happy to see you—two Gemmers added to our ranks!”

  Sophie said something so softly that Claire wasn’t sure if she had imagined it until Nadia said, “Beg your pardon?”

  “I said,” Sophie said, “that I’m not … I don’t have a craft.”

  “Really,” Nadia murmured. “How unexpected. We know, of course, about those who lack magic, but none, if any, have ever been born here in Woven Root.”

  A blush crept into Sophie’s cheeks, making her freckles look like stars against a pink sky. She shrugged defiantly. “It’s not so unusual. I have a friend who is also … similarly inclined.”

  “No harm intended,” Nadia said lightly. “I only meant I find it hard to believe that anyone can lack magic, really.”

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked, curious. She knew from Nett and her time in Arden that magic had seemed to fade since the Guild War, when the unicorns were believed to have been hunted to extinction. Everyone knew it was because the unicorns had gone away that the magic, too, had grown weaker, and lackies had been born—like their friend Thorn Barley in Greenwood Village.

  “I only mean to say that magic is in the material,” Nadia said, reminding Claire a bit of Scholar Terra. Nadia turned left and they began to walk up the steep incline, passing by a thundering waterfall that tossed rainbows playfully into the air before rushing through the valley.

  “After all,” Nadia continued, “the only magic we have isn’t really magic at all. It’s just the ability to see the potential in each block of stone, medallion of metal, loop of thread, or seed. If someone doesn’t have magic, I think it’s just because she hasn’t learned enough about herself yet.”

  She stopped them in front of a small tent of blue and purple silks and swept the door flap back. “Now, let’s get you out of those tatters—you look like you’re unraveling.”

  Claire glanced down at her outfit—it was covered in bits of grass and clover left over from the wraith’s attack, while Sophie’s dress was frayed at the edges, and in some places, the beautiful silver embroidery that had spangled her gown was completely gone. Catching Claire’s glance, Sophie crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue before following Nadia through the entrance.

  The tent was large inside, despite its small appearance on the outside. A carpet as lush as spring grass lay on the floor and the wooden furniture was painted in an array of patterns. It looked like the kind of cozy place one could hunker down in for long winter months.

  Nadia opened a painted chest near a trundle bed and pulled out a soft sky blue tunic embroidered with swans and wide-legged trousers with golden roses growing from the hems. Actually growing, because even as Claire watched, a tiny rosebud made of thread blossomed in tiny stitches. Sophie was given similar garments, but hers were a deep indigo lined with golden lilies and herons.

  “It’s beautiful,” Sophie breathed.

  “Yes, but it’s also practical,” Nadia said, and showed them an invisible seam that concealed a secret pocket. “For anything you can’t bear to lose,” she said. “Whatever you put in a Lock-it Pocket can only be found and taken out by you.” She winked. “It’s an old Spinner trick.”

  While Nadia left to retrieve some food, Claire and Sophie quickly changed and explored their surroundings.

  “Claire,” Sophie called, “it’s our stuff!” She’d opened a painted chest next to one of the hammocks. Sure enough, their packs squatted there—torn and dusty—along with Fireblood … and Claire’s pencil. Claire quickly snatched the pencil and nestled it securely into her hair. It wasn’t hard—her curls weren’t so much curls anymore as they were knots, but for once she didn’t mind. There was no way her pencil would slip out again.

  “My Wraith Watch recovered your items this morning,” Nadia said as she bustled back in with bowls of steaming oatmeal. Setting them on a checkerboard table, she smiled at the girls. “I hope you’ll be very comfortable here. I suggest you take a chance to explore your new home a bit. There will be a welcome feast tonight. It’s tradition. We believe in full integration at Woven Root. Everyone knows everyone.”

  As Mayor Nadia spoke, dread crawled over Claire’s shoulders. Should she say something? She didn’t want to be rude, but what did Nadia mean by “new home”? They were safe here for now, sure, but they had to find the unicorn, and wake the moontears, and save Anvil and Aquila, and eventually find their way home.

  “Wait,” Sophie said, speaking up as Mayor Nadia moved to the exit. “We can’t stay. We’re looking for—um, some friends of ours. We’ve got to leave as soon as—”

  “Leave?” Nadia paused near the flap, morning sunlight outlining her so that she looked as if she’d been traced in gold. “Crossed-stars, no, my child. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear before. People are always welcomed in Woven Root, but they’re never allowed to leave.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  “What?!” Sophie yelled while Claire’s gasp lodged hard and sharp in her chest.

  During all their travels, Claire had known it was a possibility that she and Sophie might not ever make it home again.

  She had only known it in such a way that it was a light sketch across a canvas: barely discernable and easily changed. Now, however, hearing a grown-up say it made the possibility burst forth in clear and terrifying detail.

  Nadia adjusted a scarf, seeming perplexed by their reactions. “I
f we let people leave the safety of Woven Root, they could be tracked back here. We could bring down upon ourselves the fury of all four guilds if we were found out. People come here precisely to stay hidden. They put their trust in us. We can’t risk their safety.”

  “Please—” Claire tried to say, but she was cut off before she could push the word out.

  “Woven Root has very few rules,” Nadia said firmly, “but this is the one rule we all abide by. There will be no exceptions. And if you ask again,” she said as Sophie opened her mouth, “I’ll have to assign some of the Wraith Watch to keep an eye on you. Or you’ll again be confined to the infirmary until you come to the logical conclusion yourselves. With the wraiths so restless recently, I really can’t afford to have even one of my watch off duty.”

  Claire held her breath, waiting for Sophie to talk back, but instead, Sophie nodded slowly. “Yes, we understand.”

  The mayor smiled at her. “Good, I’m glad we see eye-to-eye. And I do apologize—I myself was young once, and I used to travel and seek out my own adventures. But once I found Woven Root, I knew I had to stay. It’ll grow on you. It always does.”

  Nadia smiled kindly, and for a moment, Claire forgot everything—forgot that Anvil had disappeared, forgot they’d left the moontears behind, forgot that the Royalists were after her. In that moment, she felt only the warmth and safety of Nadia’s smile. It reminded her of something—reminded her, oddly, of home.

  Maybe Nadia was right.

  Maybe there was good reason to stay here, where it was safe, where they were hidden, where they’d be free to do what they wanted …

  “Go on, then. Amuse yourselves. You may not pass the Camouflora, but you are free to explore within its confines as much as you please.”

  “Camouflora?” Claire asked.

  “Haven’t you seen it? Well, I guess that’s the point,” Nadia said, wrapping her scarf a little closer. “It’s a jumbled Spinner and Tiller technique to train moss to mimic its surroundings. Our very talented Tillers and Spinners can grow Camouflora so strong that it can seem like an invisible curtain.”