Neverseen Read online

  “I’ve been consuming callowberries for thirteen years, Mr. Sencen. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t notice the smell?”

  “I dunno—I’m really good at hiding things in people’s food.”

  Mr. Forkle ignored him, holding up a black crystal with a purple gleam.

  “Does that mean we can light leap from here?” Della asked.

  “Only with special crystals, which we will provide if needed.”

  “What’s this ‘if’ stuff?” Dex asked.

  “Yeah, it’s not like we’re prisoners,” Sophie said.

  “Of course you’re not. But you are fugitives. And you came here for our protection. This is how we provide it.”

  “It sounds like we’re going to have to steal that crystal from you,” Keefe said.

  “You would be very disappointed if you did. This crystal leads to my safe house, where I go to change identities. Anyone who does not know the secret for leaving is instantly trapped.”

  “So . . . that’s it?” Sophie asked. “Here’s your tree houses, have some stew and good night?”

  “Hardly, Miss Foster. First you must get cleaned up and meet me at ground level in an hour. You all have an appointment with the rest of our ruling Collective.”

  EIGHT

  THANK GOODNESS THEY have decent taste in clothes!” Biana said, twirling in her pale pink gown, which was frilly and ruffled and looked like cupcake frosting with pearl sprinkles.

  Sophie was far less excited about hers. The smoky blue dress was dotted with diamonds, like the first glinting stars in the evening sky. But it was so fancy and fitted and screamed Look at me!

  “Seriously, what’s with the gowns?” she grumbled. “Aren’t we supposed to be fighting rebels and solving conspiracies?”

  “Actually, right now we have an important meeting,” Della reminded her. “So why not look our best?”

  “But why do we have to look like pretty pretty princesses when the boys get to wear pants and tunics?”

  Della laughed. “Sometimes I forget how much your human upbringing has altered your worldview. Our society has not been plagued by the inequalities you’ve grown up with. No one views gowns as a sign of our gender’s lesser status. We don’t have a lesser status. So if you truly hate wearing a dress, you can choose to wear anything you’d like.”

  “Even if I visit a noble city?” Sophie asked.

  “Of course. The only mark of noble status is a cape, and even then, some instances do not require them. All of our clothes—male and female—are designed to enhance natural beauty.”

  “But . . .”

  Sophie had been about to ask, What if someone isn’t beautiful?—until she’d remembered she was talking about elves.

  “Okay, but isn’t parading around like this”—she ran her hands over her jewel-encrusted bodice—“sort of shallow?”

  “Surely you know we value knowledge and talent above everything else,” Della said. “Beauty is simply a bonus, to make life more pleasing to the eye. And that applies to everything in our world—not just our physical appearance.”

  She waved her arm around the bright room, which was different from what Sophie had been imagining. There were no jewels or crystals like the elves usually built with. Instead, everything was earthy and natural. Fall-colored leaves had been woven into brightly patterned rugs, which felt softer than dandelion fluff but still made that great crunching sound when they walked. Flowering branches lined the walls, filling the air with the scent of spring. The furniture looked like carefully sculpted shrubs, and garlands of bright summer berries draped from the ceiling. But the most breathtaking element had to be the shimmering waterfall in the center. It trickled from the skylight along twisted icicles, dripping into a pool of frost-covered stones.

  Somehow the gnomes had taken the best parts of each season and transformed them into a place that was both elegant and inviting.

  “Everything in our world celebrates beauty,” Della said proudly. “Why surround ourselves with ugliness when there is wonder to showcase?”

  “I guess,” Sophie mumbled, fussing with her sash. No matter how many times she tied it, she couldn’t get the bow even.

  “Here,” Della said, knotting it as perfectly as a Disney princess. “This color really sets off your eyes.”

  “Great,” Sophie mumbled. “Just what I wanted.”

  “Hey, your eyes are what I always hear everyone talking about,” Biana reminded her.

  “Yeah, because they’re calling me a freak.”

  “That’s only Stina and her bratty friends. Everyone else thinks they’re striking and unique.”

  Della sighed when Sophie shrugged off the compliment. “It must’ve been hard growing up as an elf among humans—and I don’t mean because you’re a Telepath, though I know that came with its own challenges. Jealousy is such a powerful force in their lives—and you have so many gifts.”

  “How do you know so much about humans?” Sophie asked.

  “That is a story for another time. But I’ve walked among them, and the reception I received was less than friendly.”

  “Is that how it was for you?” Biana asked Sophie.

  “Everyone pretty much hated me,” Sophie admitted. “They’d call me the Freakazoid, or Superdork, or the Special Sophieflake. But it didn’t help that I skipped six grades and had a bad habit of reminding teachers to collect our homework.”

  “It’s better here, though, right?” Biana asked.

  “In some ways. But I’m also ‘the human girl.’ And the Girl Who Was Taken. And now everyone looks at me like I’m public enemy number one.”

  “Well, they’re wrong,” Della said. “And someday they’ll see that. In the meantime, please try to remember that there’s a difference between hiding by choice and hiding from fear. You should never be afraid of who you are.”

  Sophie fussed with her perfect Della bow, accidentally messing it up.

  She decided not to fix it.

  “Look—they gave us Prattles!” Biana said, lifting a huge welcome basket she’d discovered. She handed Sophie the silver box with her name on it, then tore into her own, going straight for the tiny velvet pouch tucked among the nutty candy.

  Every box of Prattles came with a collectible pin, shaped as one of the various animal species on the planet. Prattles limited the amount of each pin to how many of that creature existed, which meant some pins were extremely rare.

  Biana held up her bluish green water-horse. “I’ve been wanting a Prattles’ kelpie forever! What’d you get?”

  Sophie crunched on a piece of the candy as she fished out her pin, nearly choking when she saw the silver bird with long, gleaming feathers.

  “The Prattles’ moonlark,” Biana whispered. “There are less than a hundred of those.”

  And yet somehow the Black Swan had now given Sophie two.

  The last time they gave her one, they’d been trying to convince her to stop the Everblaze. What were they trying to tell her this time?

  She checked for a note and found nothing, but she was sure the pin couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Do you really trust the Black Swan?” Sophie asked Della, pinning the moonlark through the cord of her allergy remedy necklace before tucking it under her gown’s bodice.

  “There are many shades of trust,” Della said, “and most of them are gray. But I’ve decided to hope for the best. Do you know why?”

  Sophie shook her head.

  “Because of you. If all their scheming resulted in such an incredible person, that’s a cause I can get behind.”

  She meant the words to be comforting—and they were. Sort of.

  They also were a storm in Sophie’s mind. A heavy pressure and an ominous rumble, warning of turbulence ahead.

  Which reminded her . . . “You didn’t look happy with Mr. Forkle’s explanation about the gnomes from Wildwood.”

  Della smiled. “Alden warned me that you’re very perceptive.”

  “I have to be. Otherwise
no one tells me anything.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” She sank into one of the armchair-shaped shrubberies. “Have either of you studied the Wildwood Colony in multispeciesial studies?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “I guess I should’ve figured that. I think everyone would prefer the Colony didn’t exist. As Mr. Forkle said, the gnomes who live there often blame their problems on the ogres. And the timing of this plague seems especially deliberate. If the gnomes grew sick a few weeks ago, that would mean it started right around the time Sophie tried to read King Dimitar’s mind—”

  “Wait—it’s my fault the gnomes are sick?” Sophie interrupted.

  “There’s no fault,” Della promised. “You aren’t responsible for the actions of a hostile species.”

  “Besides,” Biana added, “how can ogres control disease?”

  Clearly Biana had never heard of ‘germ warfare.’ And if humans were capable of it, Sophie was sure the ogres were. Lady Cadence, her old Linguistics mentor who used to live with the ogres, had even told her that ogres were experts in biochemistry.

  “We have to find out more,” Sophie said, running to get her soggy clothes. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that Oralie’s Imparter—and Kenric’s cache—were in her pockets before she’d stepped into the river.

  “Show me Councillor Oralie,” she whispered, wiping water spots off the Imparter’s silver screen. Several agonizing seconds passed before Oralie’s face appeared in the center.

  “Is something wrong?” Oralie asked. “Did you make it safely to the Black Swan?”

  “We did,” Sophie said. “But I need to know what’s happening with the Wildwood gnomes. Did ogres attack them? Is that why you said the Neutral Territories aren’t safe?”

  “Clearly I shouldn’t have said anything,” Oralie murmured. “I meant to keep you away from danger, not draw you into our investigation.”

  “So you are investigating?” Della asked, coming up behind Sophie.

  “Ms. Vacker,” Oralie said. “I suppose I should’ve figured you’d be there. Alden’s explanation for your absence felt rather thin.”

  “Is the infection at Wildwood connected to me trying to read King Dimitar’s mind?” Sophie asked, getting back to the question that was making it hard to breathe.

  Oralie let out a sigh. “The situation with the gnomes is far more complicated than you, or anyone, realizes. No single act is the cause for anything—and I cannot tell you anything more than that. But there’s a chance the ogres aren’t even involved. So far the only tracks we found at Wildwood—besides gnomish footprints—were made by elves.”

  “Does that mean the Neverseen are behind it?” Biana asked.

  “We do not know,” Oralie said. “But it’s possible.”

  The idea was too horrible for words.

  “This could crush Keefe,” Sophie whispered.

  “A good reason to keep this information quiet,” Oralie told her. “Nothing has been confirmed. The only lesson you must take from this is to stay out of the Neutral Territories. And please don’t let yourself carry the blame. Our problems go much further than anything you’ve done.”

  Sophie tried to believe her. “Will you keep me updated about the investigation?”

  “I’ll do my best. For now, I must go.”

  “Well,” Della said, as Oralie clicked away. “I know your minds are flooding with theories, but we need to decide what to do about Keefe. If this is true, Sophie’s right, it will devastate him. Do we want to put him through that without proof?”

  Sophie glanced at Biana, relieved when she shook her head.

  “I think we should wait until we know more,” Della agreed, hooking her arms around Sophie and Biana. “For now, let’s go meet the Black Swan’s Collective.”

  NINE

  OKAY, I FIGURED you guys were going to be weird,” Keefe said, “but I wasn’t expecting this weird.”

  Sophie knew she should probably elbow him, but all she could do was stare.

  The whole time she’d followed Mr. Forkle to the meeting point—a black pavilion hidden deep in the heart of the subterranean forest—she’d been imagining a group of pudgy, wrinkly elves who ate too many ruckleberries. Instead they found . . . she wasn’t sure what.

  “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Squall, Blur, Wraith, and Granite,” Mr. Forkle told them.

  “I know the titles might seem strange,” Squall said, “but we’ve found it’s easier to remember code names when they match the disguise.”

  A heavy shiver obscured Squall’s voice, and she was clearly a Froster. She’d covered herself head to toe in a thick layer of foggy ice.

  Next to her stood Wraith—or rather, Wraith’s hovering silver cloak. He was a Vanisher and had turned everything invisible except his clothes. His voice sounded distant and hollow as he told them, “Welcome to Alluveterre.”

  Blur introduced himself next, explaining that he was a Phaser, and could break his body down to pass through walls. But with the right concentration, he could re-form only partially. The effect reduced him to splotches of color and smudged lines and shadows.

  It would’ve been the craziest thing Sophie had ever seen—if Granite hadn’t been standing next to him. Granite explained that he consumed a chalky powder called indurite, since his ability as a Telepath couldn’t disguise him. The rare mineral caused his body to crystallize and harden, turning him into a talking, roughly carved statue.

  He sounded scratchy and gravelly as he said, “We’re grateful to have all of you here—including you, Ms. Vacker.”

  “Della,” she corrected. “Surely if I have to call you those crazy code words, you can call me by my familiar name.”

  Squall’s face crackled as she smiled. “Della it is.”

  “We’ve been informed of your request to officially join our cause,” Granite said. “And . . . it’s a tricky situation. We realize your husband has clearly shown remorse for what happened with Prentice—and that errors occurred on both sides of that situation. Still, there are some among our organization who might find you hard to trust, and we cannot damage our unity.”

  “But you’re accepting us,” Biana said, pointing to herself and Fitz.

  “You have proven yourselves,” Wraith reminded her.

  “I’m prepared to prove myself as well,” Della promised. “I’ll swear any oath, submit to any test. All I want is a chance to set the past right.”

  The Collective turned to each other and Sophie was sure they were debating the matter telepathically. The Council used the same trick, so no one could hear them argue.

  “We believe you,” Mr. Forkle eventually said. “And are willing to give this arrangement a try. You can swear fealty tonight with the others.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Sophie asked, hoping there was no embarrassing ritual.

  “It’s a simple process,” Granite said. “It’ll make more sense when you receive your packages. They’ll be delivered to your rooms before your bedtime.”

  “Wait—we have a bedtime?” Keefe asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Sencen, your curfew will be midnight—and that means lights out,” Mr. Forkle said. “We also expect you to stay in your separate houses for the remainder of the night. Every morning you’ll meet for breakfast, then spend the rest of the day with your lessons.”

  “What kinds of lessons?” Biana asked.

  “Exercises to better prepare you for the tasks ahead. You’re all very talented, but you’ve only begun to hone your abilities. We will mentor you when we can, and when we’re unavailable, your rooms have been stocked with books and assignments.”

  “Or we could, y’know, work on hunting down the Neverseen,” Keefe suggested.

  “The Neverseen are not a pressing threat at the moment,” Blur said.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Keefe asked. “They’re running around starting fires—”

  “One fire,” Granite corrected.

  “That you know of,” Fitz
countered.

  “No, Mr. Vacker, one fire,” Granite insisted. “We have eyes all over the world. If anything burns, we know about it. Just like we were there to extinguish the Florence fire. And now that Gethen has been moved, the Neverseen have disappeared without a trace. We must wait for them to reveal themselves before we take further action.”

  “Unless they already did something,” Sophie said, careful to keep her words vague.

  Mr. Forkle cocked his head. “I see you have all kinds of theories.”

  Sophie backed away. “Are you reading my mind?”

  “Of course.” He didn’t sound sorry.

  “Does that mean I can poke around your head?” she countered.

  “By all means, be my guest.”

  Sophie ignored his confident smile as she tried to open her mind to his thoughts . . .

  Or Granite’s thoughts . . .

  Or Wraith’s . . .

  Or Blur’s . . .

  Or Squall’s . . .

  “I made your Telepathy unstoppable,” Mr. Forkle said, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t be deceived. Once you figure out what that means, you’ll earn the right to hear what I’m thinking.”

  “That’s not good enough!” Sophie snapped. “Just because I’m here doesn’t give you the right to invade my privacy.”

  Mr. Forkle started to argue, but Granite placed a rocky hand on his shoulder.

  “If we maintain the rules of telepathy,” Granite asked her, “would that make you more comfortable?”

  “A little,” Sophie mumbled.

  “Then consider that our arrangement—and remember that the rules apply to you as well,” Granite told her.

  I will still transmit to you on occasion, Mr. Forkle added, making Sophie jump as his voice filled her head. But I will not open my mind to your thoughts or hear your reply unless you transmit back to me. I hope this proves that we do consider your wants and concerns. Clearly it’s going to take time to adjust to our new working arrangement. But we are on the same side, even if our approaches differ. And since I already saw what you were thinking, let me go ahead and assure you that we are investigating the gnomes’ situation, and we have seen no obvious signs of the Neverseen’s involvement. The footprints Oralie mentioned—and by the way, you should use that Imparter she gave you very sparingly—belonged to two teenagers living nearby.