Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
“Okay, so I have a question,” Tam said, breaking the silence. “And this might be one of those stories you need to catch us up on. But . . . how did you get past the Neverseen while you were here? I haven’t seen a single hiding place.”
“They must’ve let down their guard after they learned of the plantings in the Wanderling Woods, thinking no one would come searching for two children who’d been declared dead,” Mr. Forkle told him. “So when I triggered my distraction, all of them left their posts to investigate.”
“Why didn’t you stage an ambush?” Fitz asked. “You could’ve captured the Neverseen and ended this.”
“We considered it,” Mr. Forkle said. “But there were too many unknown variables, and we couldn’t risk that our ambush would lead to further harm to Miss Foster or Mr. Dizznee. I honestly wasn’t sure if a rescue was even possible—that’s why I didn’t have a fully formed plan for returning them to the Lost Cities, and why I had to trigger Miss Foster’s abilities and leave the two of them to find their own way back. I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that Miss Foster was well prepared for such adventures, but . . . not a day goes by that I don’t regret the decision. I’m very aware of how lucky we are that you had the strength and foresight to call for aid,” he told Sophie, “and that Mr. Vacker found you before you’d completely faded away. This whole nightmare was a huge wake-up call for our order. None of us ever imagined our enemies would dare be so bold.”
The saddest part was, their kidnapping seemed rather tame compared to the awful things the Neverseen had done since.
But Sophie was trying not to think about that.
She was trying not to think at all.
Trying to focus on breathing.
And walking.
One foot in front of the other. Until the hall ended in a round, empty room.
Half the curved wall had shattered, leaving a pile of jagged glass and twisted metal that looked ready to slice off the legs of anyone who dared to climb it.
“I take it that was the elevator?” Fitz asked.
Mr. Forkle nodded. “They were very thorough in their efforts to leave no trace.”
Even the ceiling was crackled in the center, like they’d ripped out a chandelier.
“I can’t believe there’s nothing useful here,” Sophie whispered.
“The Neverseen aren’t fools,” Mr. Forkle told her.
“Maybe not,” Tam said. “But I don’t think they understand how shadowprints work either. See this?” He kicked a dusty shard out of the center of the floor and pointed to what looked like a smudge underneath. “If the same light hits the same crystal in the same place enough times, it casts a shadow inside the facets. Most people would never notice them. But if you darken them up . . .”
He waved his hands, grabbing every shadow in the room and pulling them to the center of the floor, the smudges turning blacker and blacker as a shape slowly formed.
“Whoa,” Fitz breathed as everyone stepped back to study the pattern. “Is that . . . ?”
Sophie nodded. “It’s the Lodestar.”
SIXTEEN
EVERYONE ELSE SEES the symbol, right?” Sophie whispered. “I’m not imagining it?”
“Oh, it’s definitely there,” Fitz said. “Though I don’t remember this.”
He pointed to one of the rays, where the open circle at the end had thin lines running through the center.
Linh circled the symbol, moving to the part closest to the rubble. “This is the angle they would’ve seen it from when they first entered from the elevator, right? If you look at it from here, that new mark looks like two runes that spell out . . . Alabestrine.”
“The star?” Sophie asked.
Fitz grinned. “I keep forgetting you have the stars memorized.”
“You do?” Tam and Linh asked, their jaws falling in unison when Sophie nodded.
“Wow, what must it be like to live in your head?” Tam asked.
“It’s very complicated.” Sophie squinted at the rune. “So does this mean the symbol is some sort of constellation?”
“If it is, it’s none that I’ve heard of,” Mr. Forkle told her. “My memory is far inferior to yours, but as I recall, Alabestrine is what we call a solo star—one that’s not connected to anything else.”
“Are there a lot of those?” Sophie asked.
“Millions. No idea why this one would be special.” Mr. Forkle wandered the symbol several times, turning his head this way and that. “The problem is, even if this is a constellation they’ve created, we’d need to know more of the stars before we’d be able to match it up. And if we did . . . I’m not certain what that would tell us.”
Sophie didn’t know either.
But it had to mean something.
“Just to be sure that I’m understanding this correctly,” Mr. Forkle said, turning to Tam, “you were able to create this mark because the symbol was projected here?”
Tam pointed to the damaged ceiling. “I’m betting there used to be a gadget right there that flashed the symbol across the foyer.”
Mr. Forkle scratched his chin. “I don’t understand why I didn’t see it during the rescue. Mind you, I had a lot to consider in that moment—but I can’t believe that I would overlook a glowing mark projected across the floor.”
“Maybe they didn’t keep it lit up all the time,” Linh suggested.
“But it would’ve had to be on a lot in order to leave this strong of a shadow impression,” Tam reminded her.
Sophie had a much bigger, much more terrifying question.
“Do you think this means that my kidnapping was part of the Lodestar Initiative?”
She knew the Neverseen had taken her, but she’d thought it was because they wanted to learn why the Black Swan created her. She’d never considered it might’ve been part of some sort of bigger plan.
Mr. Forkle sighed. “I figured you might be worrying about that—and before you panic, remember that it’s possible this hideout was chosen for its convenience or availability. In fact, that could explain why the symbol wasn’t illuminated while I was here.”
“Maybe,” Sophie said. “But those bars in Dex’s cell were permanently installed, weren’t they? So even if it wasn’t built for me, it was built to hold someone.”
“And therein lies the problem of only having pieces of information,” Mr. Forkle told her. “It raises more questions than it answers. Which means we need to focus our efforts on learning as much about this symbol as possible—and try not to worry about the possibilities in the meantime. Have you memorized the details of this shadowprint? I’ll need you to project it for me when we return to Havenfield. And speaking of which, I believe we’re already past the timeline I gave your father.”
They were.
And Grady was not happy.
“I was five minutes from hailing the Council and begging them to track your pendants!” he told them as Sophie made her way over and squished him with a hug. “Missed you too, kiddo. Everything all right?”
It wasn’t.
But it felt better knowing she was home.
“Did you find anything?” Grady asked.
Mr. Forkle explained about the symbol.
“Wow,” Grady whispered, hugging Sophie tighter. “I guess it’s a good thing you went.”
“It appears so,” Mr. Forkle said, handing Sophie the memory log.
She projected the shadowy symbol on the opposite page from where she’d recorded Prentice’s memory. The marks were the same except for the runes.
The design had sixteen rays with sixteen circles—so if each one was linked to a star, that meant they had a lot of secrets to discover.
“Speaking to Gethen has taken on a new level of priority,” Mr. Forkle told her, “so use this time to start working on a plan for how to trick him into cooperating. We’ll need something clever to get his attention, beyond showing him this symbol. It’s always a game with him, and we cannot face him until we know how to win.”
&nbs
“I’m on my way to Eternalia right now to find out. Mr. Ruewen, do you have any gnomes who might be willing to bring Mr. Tam and Miss Linh to the Alluveterre for me?”
“Lur and Mitya live here now,” Grady suggested.
“Perfect. In fact, it might be wise to see if they know anything about the symbol,” Mr. Forkle said.
Lur and Mitya had been the ones to discover the hideout in Paris. If it weren’t for them, Sophie and Dex wouldn’t be alive.
“So that’s it?” Tam asked. “You’re sending us home to wait?”
“Only because the next step falls squarely on my shoulders,” Mr. Forkle told him. “I’ll have more specific assignments once I secure the meeting with Gethen.”
“Are you going to see the Council looking like that?” Grady asked, pointing to his Forkle disguise.
“Of course. This is the only identity the Councillors are allowed to know. And, if I’m being honest, it also makes the whole process of haggling with them much more entertaining. Councillor Emery looks so delightfully frustrated as he tries to push past my mental blocking. And Councillor Alina loves to pretend like she almost recognizes me. I’m certain she’ll fall out of her chair when she realizes they nearly elected me instead of her.”
“I’ve been wondering about that,” Grady said. “What would you have done if you’d been voted in?”
“I truly had no idea. In all my years with the order, it never crossed my mind that any of my identities might be considered for the Council. It stirred quite the controversy among the Collective. Personally, I didn’t fret too much, since I assumed I’d never win. But if I’d been wrong, I would’ve accepted the position. The same means that allowed me to live among humans for twelve years would surely have allowed me to be both Black Swan and Councillor.”
“And you still won’t tell us how you pulled that off?” Sophie asked.
“Perhaps someday. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off. And while I’m away, I trust that you four”—he pointed to Fitz, Sophie, Tam, and Linh—“will be responsible members of the order and await further guidance before doing any of your own investigating?”
“Linh and I aren’t members of the order,” Tam reminded him.
“Yes, and that’s something you might want to reconsider. I’m not trying to rush you, of course. But you do push rather hard to be included in all of our happenings.”
Tam tugged on his bangs. “I’m sure I’ll take the oath soon. I just have . . .”
“Trust issues,” Mr. Forkle finished for him. “Not something I blame you for. But keep in mind that there may also be times when something needs to be restricted to those who are officially in our order.”
“Do we have to swear fealty together?” Linh asked.
“Of course not. You’re each welcome to make your own decision. And speaking of decisions”—he turned to Sophie—“are you planning on telling Mr. Sencen about our discoveries today?”
Her eyelashes turned itchy. “Should I?”
“I . . . would be careful with the specifics,” he said. “As I remember, the last time he found a note from his mother, he took the news quite hard.”
“Hard” was putting it mildly.
Keefe had tried to run away to Ravagog to take on King Dimitar all by himself. But part of the reason for his recklessness had been that Sophie kept the note secret.
“Let me know how it goes,” Mr. Forkle said before he leaped away.
Tam and Linh left with Lur and Mitya a few minutes later.
“Need me to stay while you talk to him?” Fitz asked.
Sophie shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
It wasn’t.
Keefe’s mind exploded with angry flashbacks, and he seemed especially fixated on the word “legacy.”
Should I not have told you? she asked.
No—it’s . . . whatever. I should be used to it by now.
Do you have any idea what she wanted to tell you?
I wish I did.
He also didn’t recognize the Lodestar symbol.
You’re sure? Sophie pressed. Look at it really carefully.
I am. The only part that’s familiar is the piece you already showed me. And I have no idea why my idiot dad would think it’s connected to the Lodestar Initiative.
Doesn’t that scare you? Sophie asked.
A little, he admitted. But I learned something super important today. Did you know Fintan has a cache—and not the one I stole from you and gave to him? He has one from back when he was a Councillor. Alvar told me. He asked me how I’m holding up after the Foxfire incident, making sure it wasn’t affecting my sanity and getting all big-brothery about it—
Gross, Sophie interrupted.
I know. But I was able to ask him how Fintan’s mind didn’t shatter after what he did to Kenric. He told me Fintan knows how to wipe his own memories, and locks anything dark-but-crucial away in his cache before he purges it from his mind so he doesn’t have to live with it.
Do you think that’s why he hasn’t recruited any other Telepaths? Sophie asked. Because he doesn’t need them?
Maybe—I don’t know. But don’t you realize what that means? His cache is probably filled with everything we need to know about the Neverseen.
Only if we can open it, Sophie reminded him. Plus, it can’t hold any of their current plans. Otherwise how could he work on them if he doesn’t remember them?
Either way, Keefe said. That cache is my new target. I’m betting he keeps it with the other one. And I’m going to find a way to steal them both.
SEVENTEEN
YOU’RE ALIVE!” SOPHIE said as Sandor helped her shove through the crowd to where Dex stood with his lanky female bodyguard—Lovise—in the purple grass of Foxfire’s expansive main field. “I’d started to worry.”
A gleaming silver stage had been set up in the center of the field, awaiting the arrival of the Council for some sort of official announcement. Scrolls had been sent out that morning, instructing at least one representative of every family to gather.
“Sorry,” Dex mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around much.”
“Much? I haven’t seen you since midterms!” Sophie’s eyes strayed to the damaged pyramid in the background, hidden under a bright orange tarp bearing the Foxfire seal.
A week had passed since Keefe set off the sound wave, and, other than that first day—when Sophie had gone to see Prentice and the Neverseen’s hideout—it’d been an endless week of nothing, nothing, and more nothing. All Sophie had heard about Gethen was “We’re waiting for an answer from the Council.” And Alden and Della had asked Fitz and Biana to stay at Everglen for “family time.” Even Keefe’s nightly check-ins had been unhelpful. He was still trying to figure out if Fintan hid his cache the same way the Councillors did—tucked away in the void of nothingness that only Conjurers and Teleporters knew how to access. If it was—and Keefe could figure out Fintan’s secret verbal command—he could steal it the same way he’d stolen Kenric’s cache from Sophie. But so far, Fintan and Alvar weren’t giving him any clues.
So Sophie had spent the week distracting herself by having lots of telepathic conversations with Silveny, making sure the alicorns were safe and happy and keeping themselves hidden. Silveny was still in the first trimester of her eleven-month pregnancy, and was happy to share more details than Sophie really wanted to know about preggers life—especially the morning sickness.
Spoiler alert: Apparently, alicorn vomit was just as sparkly as their poop.
Silveny’s maternal instincts also seemed to be kicking in, and she kept making Sophie promise that she’d call for her if she ever found herself in danger. It was nice to know that Silveny cared—but Sophie would never do anything to risk the safety of the baby alicorn, no matter how many times Silveny assured her she wasn’t as fragile as Sophie feared.
The rest of the t
But lots of stars were “pure.” And pure light didn’t seem to do anything special—though reading up on it did remind Sophie that there was a mirror called the Lodestar. The Silver Tower for the elite levels had a round room called the Hall of Illumination, lined with mirrors that were unique—each meant to teach the prodigies a different lesson about themselves.
The Lodestar mirror reflected pure light, and Sophie kept thinking that had to mean something. But . . . the mirror was centuries old.
She’d still asked Mr. Forkle about it, and he’d reminded her that the Neverseen didn’t invent the word “lodestar.” It still seemed like a strange coincidence, though.
“So what have you been up to?” Sophie asked Dex. “I tried hailing you a bunch of times but you didn’t answer.”
Dex patted his cape pockets and frowned. “I must’ve left my Imparter at Slurps and Burps. But I’ve had it with me every day and it never gave me any alerts. I’ve been trying to help my dad keep up with all the orders at the store. Everybody’s been stocking up on medicines. I think people are worried that the next time the Neverseen attack, someone’s going to get hurt.”
Sophie was worried about that too—and even more worried that Keefe would somehow be involved.
“What about your other project?” she asked, keeping her voice low—though no one seemed to be paying them any attention. “The one the Black Swan told you to keep secret?”
Dex’s ears turned red. “You know about that?”
“Blur mentioned it. And don’t worry, I’m not mad. I know how hard it is to have a secret assignment from the Black Swan. But now it’s my turn to be the one saying: I want to help.”
“So do I,” Biana said, appearing in the space between them.
As a Vanisher, Biana had a special gift for sneaking up on people. It made her goblin bodyguard Woltzer’s job a million times harder.