Lodestar Page 7

  “I’d thought your mind would feel more familiar,” Jolie said. “But it’s different somehow. Stronger.”

  You remember me? Sophie transmitted.

  “Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. Reality is relative.” Jolie’s turquoise eyes focused on her slender fingers, wiggling them, like she was checking to see if they really belonged to her. “Am I right? Has something changed?”

  Last time my powers were broken, Sophie told her. They had to fix me before I could come back. And then you were gone.

  “I had to go away,” Jolie whispered. “I don’t remember why. But I’m here again—and it’s so much brighter this time!”

  She raised her arms and twirled, her featherlight skirt floating around her.

  Why do you use Jolie to communicate with me? Sophie had to ask. Did she mean something to you?

  “You’re still looking for reason. The mind is a funny thing. Logic doesn’t always run things the way it should. So often it’s feelings.” Jolie reached out and caught a green fractal pattern floating by, and it turned blue and swelled large enough to surround them.

  “I make you feel safe, don’t I?”

  Yes.

  Sophie had never met Jolie, but she knew that if she had, she would’ve liked her. Everyone who knew her had loved her. Even the person who’d killed her.

  “You remind me of her,” Jolie said, flipping the ends of her golden hair. “And it’s easier this way. I’ve lost such track of myself, I don’t know how to be me.”

  But I am talking to Prentice right now? Sophie asked, needing to be sure.

  Jolie’s smile faded. “Prentice is everywhere and nowhere. He can’t help you. Though rumor has it, you can help him.”

  I can, Sophie said, her heart thundering so loud, she wondered if the whole room could hear it. But it might not be safe yet. He—or, I guess I should say you—need to get stronger.

  The fractals shifted again, flickering through so many colors it felt like standing in a disco ball. Jolie’s image flickered too, her features growing vague and smudged. “It’s strange. Sometimes I feel so sane. And other times . . .”

  The light shattered.

  Icy splinters jabbed Sophie’s consciousness, screeching like nails on a chalkboard as she plummeted. She tried to squeeze Fitz’s hand for help, but her body felt disconnected.

  No strength.

  No power of her own.

  Blackness crashed around her, so thick it felt tangible—and then it was tangible as the shadows twisted into—

  A swan?

  “Sorry,” Jolie said from somewhere behind her as Sophie struggled to get a firmer grip on the soaring bird’s slender neck.

  Jolie’s arms wrapped around her waist and the touch felt warm and soft—despite the blizzard they were flying through. A storm of blurry fragments that seemed determined to send them careening again.

  “I’m trying to hold it together,” Jolie told her. “Black Swans always keep me centered.”

  I wasn’t supposed to talk to you, Sophie admitted. They’re afraid I’ll make you worse.

  “Nothing could be worse than where I’ve been.”

  I’m so sorry.

  The words were never enough—but Sophie didn’t have anything else to offer.

  Where are we going? she asked, trying to figure out if they were flying forward or backward or sideways.

  “Somewhere. Nowhere. Everywhere. It’s all the same here. Always now but never then. Always then but never now.”

  That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

  “Welcome to my world. I’d love to say you get used to it, but . . .”

  The swan started spinning loop-di-loops, tossing Sophie’s stomach around with it. She wondered if she could throw up in someone else’s head.

  “You’re looking for something, aren’t you?” Jolie asked. “That’s what the voice in the shadows told me before you came.”

  That was Tam. He’s a friend.

  “I’m glad I didn’t drag him under, then.”

  You do that?

  “Sometimes. Not always by choice.”

  So . . . sometimes you do it on purpose?

  “If I did, would that scare you?”

  A little. But I trust you.

  “Does that mean you’ll come back?”

  Of course I will, Sophie promised. But right now, I’m only allowed to stay for a few more minutes. Can you help me find the memory I need before I have to go?

  “I can try,” Jolie said as the swan tucked its wings and plunged. “But the memories here aren’t what they used to be.”

  On and on they sank, until they reached a fog of glowing shards all scrambled up and flipped around and crashing into each other. Some had images painted across them. Others moved like fragments torn from a movie. And others held only a cacophony of noises.

  “Everything that once was, is gone,” Jolie said sadly. “All that’s left is fractured and fragmented.”

  I’m only looking for a piece—or maybe a few pieces.

  Sophie projected the image Mr. Forkle had sent her and it flared in front of them like a hologram.

  “That doesn’t look familiar,” Jolie murmured.

  Mr. Forkle found it the last time he was in here.

  Jolie’s arms tensed. “Someone else visited?”

  You don’t remember?

  “I hear voices sometimes. But I can never tell if they’re echoes. I hope I didn’t hurt him.”

  He was able to get out—but only barely. That’s why he sent me.

  “You’re the moonlark,” Jolie whispered. Her arms clung so tightly that Sophie had to fight to breathe.

  Or maybe the pain in her chest came from Jolie’s next question.

  “How long has it been since I was me?”

  I’m probably not supposed to tell you.

  “But you’re old now, aren’t you? Far older than my son was when . . .”

  Don’t think about it, Sophie said. There’s a lot that needs to be explained—but we have to wait until you’re strong enough to handle it.

  “That doesn’t sound like good news.”

  It is and it isn’t. There are a million reasons to keep fighting. But it’s probably not going to be easy.

  The shards trembled and tightened.

  “I think I’m slipping away,” Jolie warned.

  A burst of energy flooded Sophie’s senses—probably Fitz sending backup—and Sophie wrapped it around Jolie’s fading form.

  Please—if you can’t stay for me, do it for Wylie.

  “Wylie,” Jolie repeated. She kept murmuring the name as she waved her arms and made another glowing bubble around them, spinning the shards like leaves in a windstorm. “I still don’t see what you’re looking for.”

  It has to be there. I’m pretty sure this is one of the memories you were protecting. Maybe even the reason you called swan song.

  The bubble burst at the words.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Jolie said as they sank into the glittering oblivion. “But the phrase has a pull, like an anchor dragging me toward . . . I don’t know.”

  Down they went again—so far that Sophie wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to claw her way back up. But it was worth the fall when Jolie whispered, “There.”

  She waved her arms and the fragments parted, revealing three blindingly bright pieces. “Those are what you need. I . . .”

  Jolie’s image vanished into the dark.

  Sophie had just enough strength left to wrap her mind around the gleaming shards and transmit a call for Fitz’s help.

  He sent a tidal wave of heat, launching everything up, up, up—through softness and sludginess and pain and relief until she was back in her body, shivering in a pair of warm arms that held her close and careful and wouldn’t let her fall.

  “Shhhh,” Fitz whispered. “You’re back. You’re safe.”

  “How’s Prentice?” she asked as Mr. Forkle pressed two fingers against her temples to check her memories.


  “Same as before,” Fitz promised. “Why? What happened in there?”

  “Incredible things,” Mr. Forkle whispered. Tears streamed down his wrinkly cheeks as he cleared his throat and added, “I’ll explain later. Right now we must focus. Mr. Vacker—perhaps you could ensure I’m assembling these memories properly?”

  Fitz slipped into Sophie’s mind and she watched as the bits of symbol snapped together. The three diagonal lines from the original image converged with other lines bearing similar circles and dashes, all meeting in a central point and fanning out like rays from the sun.

  The symbol was abstract, of course, but it reminded Sophie of an asterisk.

  Or a star.

  NINE

  THE SYMBOL IS a Lodestar,” Sophie whispered. “Isn’t it?”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Mr. Forkle said. “Technically, the word ‘lodestar’ refers simply to any kind of star that can be used as a guide.”

  “But this could easily be connected to the Lodestar Initiative,” Sophie argued.

  “Perhaps it would help if we could see?” Granite suggested.

  Blur retrieved a memory log from one of the apothecary drawers, and when Sophie projected the image across the stiff pages, everyone had to admit the symbol looked like a star.

  “Even if the symbol is a Lodestar,” Granite said after a moment, “we’re still a long way away from understanding what it means. All those dashes and circles have to be significant. I’m assuming you saw nothing that could help us translate while you were in Prentice’s mind?”

  “I wish. It seemed like Prentice didn’t even remember that he’d seen the symbol before. But . . . he only found it after I mentioned swan song. So the two must be connected.”

  They all tilted their heads and squinted at the star from different angles, as if the explanation would pop out at them if they just stared hard enough.

  “Soooooo,” Tam eventually said, “anyone want to explain why lodestars are so important? Or are you going to keep acting like Linh and I aren’t here?”

  “Didn’t they tell you?” Fitz asked, glancing at the members of the Collective.

  “I told them Keefe joined the Neverseen,” Blur said. “I didn’t get into why.”

  “Care to clue us in now?” Tam asked, not sounding happy to have been kept in the dark.

  Mr. Forkle explained what little they knew about the Lodestar Initiative and how Keefe’s mom seemed to have created it.

  “And the Initiative had something to do with what happened to the gnomes?” Linh whispered, tugging nervously on the silver ends of her hair.

  “That is unclear,” Mr. Forkle emphasized. “Fintan implied a connection when he first threatened the Council with the plague. And he made the Initiative sound as though it’s the Neverseen’s grand plan. But he also admitted to eliminating Mr. Sencen’s mother so he could take over the project, so it’s highly possible he’s made his own amendments.”

  “Does Keefe know what the plan is?” Tam asked.

  “He says he’s still piecing it together—but I know there’s something he isn’t telling me,” Sophie said quietly. “Maybe he’ll be more willing to share when I show him the whole symbol.”

  “I assume that means you’ve found a way to transmit to him?” Mr. Forkle asked.

  Sophie nodded. “We’re going to check in every night.”

  “You are?” The tightness in Fitz’s voice made Sophie realize she’d forgotten to mention that detail when they talked.

  “It’ll be safer this way,” she explained. “He can update me on anything he’s learned without having to sneak away.”

  “Or feed you a bunch of lies,” Tam pointed out. “Hey—don’t look at me like that. You have to admit it’s possible.”

  “Anything is possible,” Sophie argued. “All I know is that if I’d been brave enough to try transmitting to Keefe sooner, he wouldn’t have had to destroy part of Foxfire to warn me.”

  “Whoa—back up,” Tam said. “He destroyed part of Foxfire?! Okay, seriously, am I really the only one who thinks trusting this guy is a bad idea?”

  “No,” Wraith said, folding his invisible arms under his cloak. “Some of us are a bit more reluctant.”

  “I’m not,” Blur jumped in.

  “Well, Squall is just as torn as I am,” Wraith said. “So is Granite.”

  “You are?” Sophie asked.

  Granite had seemed so supportive when he first heard about Keefe. He’d even decided to reveal his true identity to help reassure her that she shouldn’t be afraid to trust people. But now he shifted his hefty weight, filling the small space with the crunch of his crystallized joints. “I don’t doubt that Mr. Sencen left with good intentions—but we can’t ignore the possibility that he might become corrupted. He’s immersed in the Neverseen’s world—training in their methods, being exposed to their teachings and theories. There’s no telling how that might influence him.”

  “Exactly,” Tam agreed. “You’re with me on this, right?” he asked Linh.

  Linh shook her head. “Remember how people have doubted us? Their murmurs and snipes about the strength of our powers. Their outrage when you left with me after I was banished. Not to mention the mistrust because we’re twins. They had reasons for their feelings. Did that make them right?”

  “No—but their reasons are stupid,” Tam argued.

  Multiple births were rare in the elvin world, and for some reason that bred judgment and scorn. Sophie would never understand how the elves could be so brilliant and sophisticated and still have so many strange prejudices. They didn’t care about skin color or money or appearance. But they condemned anyone without a special ability, or anyone with unusual genetics.

  “And you think that’s the same as joining the enemy?” Tam asked.

  “No, I think it means we shouldn’t pass judgment until we see how things play out. Actions never tell the whole story. Good can be done for the wrong reason. And bad can be misunderstood.”

  “Fine,” Tam grumbled. “But if he comes anywhere near me, I’m siccing the dwarves on him until he lets me take a reading. And you guys should be keeping us way better updated about this stuff,” he told the Collective.

  “The incident at Foxfire was only yesterday,” Mr. Forkle explained. “But I realize you’re both feeling very separated—and that’s because you are.”

  “Maybe it would be easier if we returned to the Lost Cities,” Linh told her brother.

  “You really want to go back to Choralmere?” he asked. “You want to deal with Mom panicking that you’re going to flood the house every time you gaze at the ocean? You want to hear Dad constantly lying about us, like our very existence brings him shame?”

  “Of course not,” Linh told him. “I just—”

  “I might have a solution for you,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “I’ve been in talks with the Council about a new arrangement that would allow you to visit the Lost Cities regularly. But nothing is official yet, so I’m going to need you—”

  “Let me guess,” Tam jumped in, “You want us to be patient?”

  Mr. Forkle smiled. “I know I ask for that a lot. I also demand it of myself. I’ve often said that it seems we’re attempting to drain the ocean with a leaking spoon. But even if that’s the case, we can either give up, or we can continue taking it one dripping spoonful at a time. And this”—he pointed to the symbol Sophie had projected—“is a pretty important spoonful. We need to find out what it means.”

  “I can ask Keefe,” Sophie offered. “Though he didn’t recognize the black disk or the symbol when I showed it to him last night, so I doubt he’ll be much help.”

  “I can think of someone who might know more about the symbol,” Fitz mumbled. “But . . . you’re not going to like it.”

  Sophie was about to ask who when she figured it out on her own.

  She groaned. “Please tell me you’re not asking us to trust Lord Cassius.”

  TEN

  WOW,” LINH WHI
SPERED, staring at the stark crystal skyscraper looming over them. “This is where Keefe grew up?”

  “It explains a lot, doesn’t it?” Sophie mumbled.

  Mr. Forkle hadn’t been sure if it would be wise to bring the twins on this excursion—but Sophie had insisted. Maybe it would help Tam understand where Keefe was coming from.

  Their feet crunched on the gravelly ground as they crossed under an intricate arch with the word CANDLESHADE woven into the iron. Lord Cassius answered the golden door before Mr. Forkle finished knocking, looking pristine in his intricately embroidered blue cape. He reminded Sophie far too much of his son—same blond hair and ice-blue eyes. Same handsome features. But he was the version where all the fun had been squeezed out and only the sour was left.

  Even his smile was creepy—oily and insincere as he said, “Why, Miss Foster. I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair back. But it’s always a pleasure to see you. And you as well, Mr. Forkle. And Mr. Vacker.” His eyes flicked past Sandor and Grizel without acknowledging them and settled on Tam and Linh. “And who might our surprise guests be?”

  “This is Tam and Linh Song,” Mr. Forkle told him, ignoring Tam’s scowl at the use of his last name.

  “Song?” Lord Cassius repeated. “You’re Quan and Mai’s children?”

  “Their twins,” Tam corrected.

  Tam’s father had tried to convince people that Tam and Linh were a year apart in age, but they refused to play along.

  “I see the resemblance now,” Lord Cassius said, studying the twins more closely. “I know your father well. He was a Level ahead of me at Foxfire, but we often studied together. We still meet for drinks in Atlantis sometimes.”

  Tam glanced sidelong at Sophie. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that.”

  “Do your parents know you’ve joined the Black Swan?” Lord Cassius asked.

  “I don’t see why they would,” Tam told him. “And for the record, we haven’t sworn fealty.”