Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
“I guess,” she said quietly. “But you think it proves your theory, don’t you, Dex?”
“I don’t know,” Dex said. “I mean . . . it could. But I am also just guessing.”
“Exactly,” Biana jumped in. “All we really know is that we don’t know anything.”
Somehow, that was the most depressing thought of all.
Sophie flopped onto her back, rubbing the knot under her ribs and trying to tie all the complicated things she was feeling into it. She stared at the sky through the curved glass ceiling, wishing she could stretch out her consciousness to Keefe and pummel him with questions. But it was still early in the day—way too soon for their check-in. And she probably didn’t want to know what he was doing anyway.
“Okay,” Fitz said. “I think we need a subject change before Sophie’s brain explodes.”
“He’s right,” Biana agreed. “Maybe if we figure out where Alvar used to sneak off to, it’ll help us understand what that conversation actually meant.”
Dex scooted over to the trunks and popped both lids open, revealing so many tightly coiled scrolls that Sophie wondered if there was any paper left in the world.
“I told you this is going to be boring,” Dex reminded them as Biana unrolled a scroll and gaped at the thousands of tiny black numbers printed across it. “This part you’ll probably be able to read”—he pointed to the narrowest column on the left of the scroll—“that’s the time stamp, telling you the date, year, and time in hours, minutes, and seconds. But the rest is all code. Some of it has obviously been altered, and I’ve been trying to figure out which parts, but so far I haven’t been able to find a pattern.”
“Have you checked the days you were kidnapped?” Biana asked. “That’s the one time we know that Alvar wasn’t where his records said he was—and we know exactly where he was.”
“I haven’t,” Dex admitted. “The triplets got in my room and got into the trunks and . . . let’s just say I’m currently brewing a very special elixir for payback.”
Fitz sighed. “So all of these are in random order? That’s going to take forever.”
“Maybe not,” Biana said. “Now we have four of us working on it. Okay, so Sophie and Fitz—you guys work on putting the scrolls back in order while Dex and I focus on trying to find the dates from the kidnapping. And once we find one, Dex will switch to checking the tech code part to see if he can find the pattern we need.”
“You’re assuming they altered Alvar’s feed the same way every time,” Dex reminded her.
“I know—but isn’t that what you’d do?” she asked. “If you knew something was working, wouldn’t you keep doing it?”
“I suppose.”
“All right then,” Biana said. “We have a plan!”
They did.
But the process was slooooooooooooooooooooooow. It took them hours before Biana found the first scroll from the time frame they needed.
“I think I’ll need at least three to really be able to compare,” Dex warned as he squinted at the numbers.
Hours later, Sophie found scroll number two.
“So we only need one more, right?” Biana asked.
“Assuming I can find the pattern,” Dex said. “And assuming the pattern actually applies to the other days he snuck away. And assuming I can figure out what the pattern even means.”
“That’s a lot of assumptions,” Fitz noted.
“It is,” Biana agreed. “But Dex found secret information about the plague by digging through a database that spanned centuries. I’m sure we can find what we’re looking for in a couple of trunks of scrolls.”
When she put it that way, it didn’t sound so daunting. But they still hadn’t found the third scroll by the time Juline brought them dinner—which looked like blue french fries and tasted like nachos with extra cheese.
“Still at it?” Juline asked. “And I’m assuming you haven’t heard from anyone at Havenfield?”
Sophie shook her head. “I’ve been checking my Imparter every few minutes. It’s driving me nuts.”
“Your Imparter is working, right?” Biana asked. “Weren’t you having a problem with it?”
“I thought the problem was Dex’s Imparter,” Sophie said.
Dex pulled the silver gadget out of his pocket. “I ran every test I could think of, and they all came back normal. Have you tried hailing me again?”
Sophie held her Imparter to her mouth and told it, “Show me Dex Dizznee.”
Dex’s Imparter stayed blank.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Dex said. “Fitz—can you try hailing me?”
Fitz did, and Dex’s screen immediately flashed with Fitz’s face.
“Hmm. Maybe yours is the one with the loose wire,” Dex said. “Give me a sec.”
He ran upstairs to get tools, and Sophie stared at her finicky gadget.
“Do you think I should check on my family with your Imparter?” she asked Fitz. “What if they’ve been trying to hail me?”
“My parents are there too,” Fitz reminded her, “and they haven’t tried to reach me.”
Dex raced back into the room with a kit of the world’s tiniest screwdrivers. Within minutes he had the whole Imparter disassembled and hundreds of paper-thin gears scattered across his sleeping bag.
“See anything weird?” Sophie asked as he picked up an especially tiny gear.
Dex shook his head. “Everything was exactly where it should be. I just don’t . . .”
His voice trailed off and he leaned closer, squinting at one of the cog’s teeth.
“Is that grease?” Biana asked, peering over his shoulder.
Dex said nothing as he fished his monocle pendant out from underneath his tunic and used the magnifying glass to examine a speck of black.
“Whoa,” he whispered—then covered his mouth.
“What is it?” Fitz, Biana, Sophie, and Juline all asked at once.
“I . . . think some dirt got into the mechanism and clogged it,” he said. “Can someone get me a pen and paper so I can make a note of which cog needs to be replaced?”
Juline pulled the pencil from her hair and Biana flipped one of the scrolls over for Dex to write on the back.
“So it’s just a normal malfunction?” Sophie asked.
“Should be.”
But Dex’s note told a different story.
His left hand shook as he held it to his lips and made the universal Shhh sign before he showed them what he’d written.
Someone might be listening.
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE GOOD NEWS is, your Imparter still works,” Dex said, adding another sentence to his note.
We need to act normal.
“Once I put it back together, it should connect to everything except my Imparter,” he added. “I forgot that I added a safety protocol to mine, blocking it from communicating with any abnormal tech.”
He amended his sign again.
Can we talk telepathically?
Juline grabbed the note and added:
ALL of us!
Lovise snatched the scroll and wrote: I expect updates as well.
Sophie nodded and turned to Fitz, who offered her his hand. Their thumb rings snapped together as the mental energy hummed between them and they opened their minds to Dex, Biana, and Juline.
Okay, Sophie transmitted while their mental voices flooded her head. I think we’re doing what Councillor Emery does when he mediates the other Councillors—and wow, it’s LOUD.
Yeah it is, Fitz said, rubbing the sides of his forehead.
Sophie tried to think around the questions being shouted at her, but it was too much too fast.
Okay, so here’s how this needs to work, Fitz said. Sophie and I can hear all of you guys, but you can’t hear each other. So you need to take turns, and then we’ll transmit what you said to the rest of the group so everyone can hear it.
Dex first, Sophie said. What do you mean someone might be listening? And why aren’t we smashing that gea
Because, if they don’t know that we’ve found it, they won’t destroy their end of the signal. And that might give me a chance to trace it back to the source. But first I have to get the Imparter reassembled.
His hands were already busy fitting all the tiny cogs back together.
Fitz relayed the information to the others—even jotted down a brief update for Lovise—and transmitted Biana’s question: Who else would it be besides the Neverseen?
It could be the Council, Fitz told her. Mr. Forkle said they’re keeping close tabs on us.
Can they hear everything we say? Sophie asked. Or only when the Imparter’s in use?
I can’t tell yet, Dex said. That’s why I don’t want us talking, just in case.
But won’t they get suspicious of all this silence? Fitz asked. Especially since they would’ve heard that we were disassembling the Imparter?
That’s actually a good point, Dex admitted.
I need you guys to start talking again, Fitz told Juline and Biana.
Biana rustled some of the scrolls. “I think I need a break, guys. All the numbers are turning into a big black blur.”
I need to update the rest of the Collective, Juline thought as she told them, “I’m going to make you guys some mugs of cinnacreme. It’s always my favorite thing on a cold night.”
“Ohhhh, that sounds amazing!” Biana launched into a long explanation of what it tasted like—and it did sound delicious. But Sophie was more focused on Dex.
How long do you think they’ve been listening? she asked.
I’m guessing it’s pretty recent. I’ve had that safety protocol on my Imparter for a while, and it never used to block you. That’s why I didn’t think of it at first. But now it makes total sense. My Imparter shuts out any signals that aren’t secure.
So someone must’ve tampered with yours, Fitz said to Sophie.
But when? It’s always with me. Or it’s in my room, and if someone had been in there, Sandor would’ve known—wouldn’t he?
Hasn’t Brant fooled Sandor’s senses before? Dex thought. Using ash or something?
But wouldn’t he still have left footprints in the flowered carpet? Sophie asked.
Unless he levitated, Fitz said.
She hated him for being right—hated even more what the possibility meant.
I had my Imparter with me the day Keefe visited Foxfire, she transmitted. If it was broadcasting, that means the Neverseen might know Keefe’s betraying them.
Her mind flashed through visions of Keefe being dragged to the ogres’ prison, bleeding and begging for mercy like his mom.
Hey, Fitz said, tightening his hold on her hand. Try not to think about that stuff until we know what we’re dealing with, okay?
I’m close to tracking the signal, Dex told them. But I think we’ve gotten too quiet again.
Fitz told Biana to start talking again, and she fumbled for something to say.
Wait—I know! she thought. “Makeover time! Who wants to go first?”
“I think it should be Dex,” Sophie told her.
Uh, I’m a little busy here, Dex argued.
I know—but if they think you’re getting a makeover, they’ll be less suspicious about what you’re doing to the Imparter.
Dex sighed. “Fine—but no makeup!”
“Duh,” Biana told him. “All I’m going to do is fix your hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Let me show you the many things.” Biana dug through one of her overnight bags and pulled out a pink sparkly pouch filled with pots of different colored gels. She chose a yellowish concoction and unscrewed the lid.
“That better not have pee in it,” Dex told her.
“Don’t be gross. And don’t be such a baby.”
Fitz snickered. “Now you see what I live with.”
How’s it going? Sophie transmitted to Dex.
Good. I’m just setting up some aliases to shield my search signals and—
“Ahh! What are you doing?” he shouted.
Biana had scooted closer and was running her fingers through his hair.
“Relax—I’m just making it so your hair isn’t plastered to your forehead anymore. Hold still.” She dipped her fingers in the yellow goop and reached for him again.
Sophie had never seen Dex so red.
“This style will draw way more attention to your eyes,” Biana said. “And the flecks of gold in the gel will bring out the blond undertones in your hair.”
She handed him a mirror from her bag. “See? It’s awesome, right?”
Dex’s grin was so huge it practically caved in his cheeks.
Sophie shifted to get a better look. “Wow. That’s . . . wow.”
Who knew a new hairstyle could make such a difference? Not that Dex hadn’t been cute before—he was an elf, after all. But there’d been something about him that always felt young.
Not anymore.
Aren’t we supposed to be dealing with the fact that someone might be eavesdropping on us right now? Fitz transmitted. Or are you trying to bore them to death with all this hair talk?
Biana smirked. “I think Fitz should be my next makeover. His style has gotten a little helmety lately.”
“It has not!” Fitz said. But Sophie noticed he reached up and mussed his hair a bit.
Okay, Dex thought. I’m ready to track the signal—we have to make sure we keep talking.
Out loud, he added, “If Fitz is being a baby, how about we give Iggy a new look?”
Biana squealed happily as he handed her a vial filled with a cloudy liquid, and she scooted over to Iggy’s cage, waving the elixir near his furry lips. Iggy sniffed the milky serum once before downing it in one giant slurp. He’d barely finished licking his chops when he sneezed and his fur poofed out in every direction, turning him into a ball of blue fluff with only the tips of his ears, hands, wings, and nose sticking through.
“Isn’t he going to change color?” Sophie asked.
“Give it a second,” Dex said, and sure enough, Iggy’s fur started to shimmer as it shifted to a bright purple.
“Awwww, just when I thought he couldn’t get more adorable!” Biana cooed.
Iggy bounced up and down and flapped his fluff-buried wings.
“Who’s ready for cinnacreme?” Juline asked, sweeping into the room with a tray of four steaming mugs. She froze midstep when she spotted Dex’s hair.
“Like it?” Biana asked.
Juline looked a little misty-eyed.
“Ugh, why are parents so embarrassing?” Dex grumbled.
“It’s our job.” Juline handed everyone mugs of cinnacreme—which tasted like melted snickerdoodles.
What did the Collective say? Sophie asked her.
I was only able to reach Wraith. He’s tracking down the others as we speak.
Do you think—
Sophie’s question was cut short by a white light flashing from her Imparter.
Dex frowned and tapped the screen a few times.
Something wrong? Sophie asked.
Not necessarily. It looks like I have good news, bad news, and weird news. The good news is: I’m pretty sure no one’s listening to us right now. The signal doesn’t seem to be reaching anything—which is the bad news. I can’t track where it’s going. The receiver’s either been turned off or destroyed.
So what’s the weird news? Fitz asked.
Dex handed the gadget to Sophie. This isn’t your Imparter.
TWENTY-NINE
WHAT DO YOU mean it’s not my Imparter? Sophie asked. I brought it from home.
I know, Dex told her. But I just checked the activity log. And unless you hailed yourself a ton of times—which I don’t even think is possible—it has to be someone else’s. Someone who also hailed Fitz a lot, and made a few very brief hails to Lord Cassius.
Sophie’s eyes widened. This is Keefe’s Imparter?
Dex nodded.
Why would you have Keefe’s Imparter? F
Wouldn’t I have two, then? Sophie asked.
Unless he swiped yours, Fitz said. Maybe when he put his cloak around you?
Sophie replayed the moment, but all she remembered were Keefe’s hands near her shoulders.
I guess it’s possible, she admitted. But I don’t see why he would do that. And I don’t think he would’ve been able to hide that from me during our check-ins. I can see enough of his fleeting thoughts to know what stuff he’s worrying about.
Then where else would you get his Imparter? Dex asked.
No clue. Actually, wait. Grizel found an Imparter in Keefe’s desk when we were searching his room, and I gave her mine so she could compare the two. She might’ve accidentally mixed them up before she gave it back.
I guess that makes sense, Fitz said. And you know what? I bet this Imparter is how the Neverseen knew about our ambush on Mount Everest. Keefe’s mom probably rigged it so she could eavesdrop on Keefe’s conversations, and heard us arranging the trap.
Sophie cringed. As if hiding a tracker in his family crest pin wasn’t disgusting enough.
HEY GUYS—REMEMBER ME? Biana thought, waving her arms to get their attention. I’d like to know what’s going on too!
Fitz caught her up on the newest discoveries, then updated Juline and Lovise.
Does that mean it’s safe for us to talk? Biana asked.
Dex squinted at the Imparter. I think we should still be careful—unless you want me to disassemble it again.
I hate to do that, Juline said after Sophie relayed the info. Every time we tamper with it, we risk undoing whatever they did, and we might still be able to learn something from it.
Guess that means we’re in for more makeover talk, Sophie transmitted as Juline left to see if Wraith had made contact with the rest of the Collective.
“We could play truth or dare,” Biana suggested with an evil smile.
“No way—that got weird last time,” Fitz told her.
Biana tossed her hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do—just like you totally knew what you were doing when you turned your head at the last second.”