Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
They feasted on several kinds of gnomish fruit, thinly sliced and artfully arranged. Some tasted like steak and lobster and other fancy things. Others were richer and earthier. No one cleared their plate, but everyone found their favorites and seemed happy when Liora conjured the dishes away.
“It’s always refreshing to see our worlds gather in the pursuit of peace,” Councillor Emery said as he stood to address his guests. “And to have this rare opportunity for enlightened interchange and mutual benefit. The real work begins tomorrow, but we wanted to end this first night with something we hope you’ll find heartening. As many of you know, the complex problems of our modern world have led to the rise of certain groups within the Lost Cities. And while the Black Swan have proven themselves to be both resourceful and reasonable—which is why they’re represented here at this Summit—the Neverseen have unfortunately caused incredible chaos. Halting their efforts has proven a challenge, but we finally have proof of our inevitable victory.”
Three holograms flashed to the center of the U shape: Brant, Ruy, and Gethen—live projections of each of the prisoners in their blindingly bright cells. They sat in nearly identical poses—backs straight, legs crossed, eyes closed—looking more like meditating monks than warmongering villains.
And yet, as Sophie watched, the faintest whiff of a smile curled Gethen’s lips, reminding her how desperate he’d seemed for information about the summit.
They’re up to something, she thought, right as a pair of goblins burst into the room and whispered a breathless message to Councillor Emery.
“Is something wrong?” King Dimitar asked.
“ ‘Wrong’ is not the word I would use.” Councillor Emery glanced at the other Councillors, waiting for each to nod. “I’ve just received word that the current leader of the Neverseen—an elf named Fintan Pyren—is outside the gates of this castle demanding to be admitted to the proceedings.”
SEVENTY-SIX
WHY AREN’T THEY arresting him? Sophie transmitted to Mr. Forkle as the various leaders shouted questions at the Council. They should be dragging Fintan to one of those cells to join his co-conspirators!
Diplomacy is rarely as straightforward as it may seem, Mr. Forkle told her. Both Queen Hylda and Empress Pernille are requesting that Fintan be allowed to participate in the Summit’s proceedings. Haven’t you been listening?
She hadn’t. Her mind had been too busy piecing scarier things together.
Fintan’s arrival.
The fact that none of the prisoners had looked particularly upset about being in their cells.
Lady Gisela telling her “this is what they want.”
Even the plan Keefe had mentioned—the one he’d said Brant and Ruy were ordered to take part in, which Ruy had considered unnecessary and demeaning.
Could it have involved letting themselves get captured?
They’re up to something, she transmitted. Probably a jailbreak. It’s perfect. They’d get to humiliate the Council, impress or scare the world leaders, and get Gethen back, all in one go.
You may be right, Mr. Forkle said. And in case you are, I think it would be quite unwise to allow Fintan anywhere near those cells, don’t you?
He stood, clearing his throat as he waited for the room’s attention. “For the record, I think Fintan should be heard during the proceedings as well.”
At least half the room gasped—Sophie included—even though she knew what Mr. Forkle was trying to do.
“You honestly want to jeopardize the security of these proceedings?” Oralie asked, ignoring the protocol of letting Councillor Emery do the speaking.
“No. I want him to be placed under heavy guard in the small storage outbuilding in the main courtyard,” Mr. Forkle said calmly. “And he can remain there until the morning negotiations, in which case he’d be brought into the meeting. Keep as many guards on him as you like—and lock him back in the outbuilding when the proceedings are over. There’s no reason for him to attend the galas or dinners.”
“There’s no reason for him to attend anything at all!” Alina argued. “He’s a Pyrokinetic.”
“Yes, and lumenite doesn’t burn,” Mr. Forkle reminded her. “Isn’t that why the Ancient Councillors chose it when they built this fortress?”
Oralie stood, her fragile hands gripping the end of the table. “I can’t believe anyone is considering this. That lunatic is bent on destroying everything we hold precious. What can we possibly gain from allowing his voice to be heard?”
“Perspective,” Empress Pernille told her. “For millennia we’ve been told there’s one way—the elvin way. And now, it appears the elvin way is divided. I find it hard to believe I’m the only one who’d like to know what these other elves have to say—especially since one alternate elvin perspective is already being presented by the Black Swan. Why not hear the other?”
“Because he’s a murderer!” Oralie shouted.
“So am I, by elvin standards,” Queen Hylda said. “So are most of us. Death goes hand in hand with war.”
“You’re in favor of Fintan joining us?” Councillor Bronte asked the goblin queen. “After his involvement in what happened with Brielle?”
“It’s because of his involvement in Brielle’s death that I would like to hear him out. I’d like to understand what her life was taken for.”
“None of us are saying we’ll agree with his logic,” King Enki added. “We’d simply like to hear what that logic is. Isn’t it our responsibility to consider the issues from every possible side before we render a decision?”
Sophie was surprised to realize King Dimitar was staying silent during the debate. And he glared at those supporting Fintan’s admission with a murderous sort of rage.
The Councillors looked just as disgusted. But—ever the diplomats—they put it to a poll, making it clear that the Council’s vote would only count for one. Mr. Forkle was given a vote, since he was a leader of his order. Sophie and Edaline were excluded as observers. The final verdict: four to three in favor of letting Fintan attend.
“Well,” Councillor Emery said, massaging his temples. “It appears we have some adjustments to make. So we ask that you please return to your rooms—and understand that you will not be able to leave them for the rest of the night. We need to ensure everyone’s safety as we drastically amend our protocols.”
Righty and Bunhead shuffled Sophie and Edaline away from the crowd, leading them through a set of balefire-lit halls into the bowels of the fortress.
As soon as the door closed to their suite, Edaline pulled Sophie close. “It looked like you and Mr. Forkle were having a telepathic conversation while everyone argued. Please tell me what what’s going on. I promise I’m strong enough to handle it.”
For most of the time Sophie had spent with her adoptive family, Edaline had been the fragile one, broken by her grief over losing Jolie. But there was no weakness in Edaline’s voice or any tremors in her hands as she rubbed Sophie’s back.
So Sophie leaned closer and whispered, “We think the Neverseen are going to attempt a prison break, and we’re trying to figure out how to stop them.”
Edaline nodded slowly. “And I’m assuming Mr. Forkle didn’t ask the Councillors to move the prisoners, because you’re worried that’s what the Neverseen want?”
“Actually, I think he just knew the Council would never go along with it,” Sophie admitted. “But your reason is important too.”
“So what does Mr. Forkle want us to do?”
“No idea,” Sophie admitted, not missing the way Edaline had included herself in their planning. “It’s so hard to strategize when we don’t have any idea what they’re thinking. Everything we do could play right into their hands.”
“Do you think Keefe will have any insights?”
“If he does, they’ll probably be super vague and warn us about the wrong thing,” Sophie grumbled. But on the off chance, she decided to reach out to him.
Just the girl I wanted to talk to, Keefe told her.
No time for banter, Keefe—Fintan just talked his way into the Peace Summit. I’m pretty sure he’s planning to break Ruy, Gethen, and Brant out of the dungeon. In fact, I’m betting Brant and Ruy are a part of it.
Keefe’s mind unleashed a bunch of words she’d get in trouble for using.
I take it that means we’re guessing right? she asked.
You might be. I know Fintan’s off on a mission right now—and Alvar told me they’ve been building toward it for a while. He said it would make the world lose all faith in the Council.
Sophie’s stomach did a twist-flip move that made her really wish she hadn’t eaten so much dinner.
Ugh, I’m the biggest idiot on the planet if that nightmare at the Pallidrose hideout was a ploy to get them captured, Keefe mentally grumbled. His thoughts strayed to his burned hand, and Sophie could tell the nerves still hurt him, even though the skin had healed.
It was probably her cue to tell him he wasn’t an idiot—but he had done some pretty idiotic things.
Then again, so had she.
If getting arrested was part of their plan, we all played right into it. All we can do is hope we’ve caught our mistake with enough time to stop them.
And I’m assuming you’re at the summit? he asked. Never mind, of course you are. You’re probably right where it’s most dangerous.
I am, Sophie said. And so is Edaline.
More inappropriate words pounded through his head. Why would the Council let Fintan in? Didn’t they learn after what happened to Kenric?
It wasn’t their decision. Some of the other leaders wanted to hear what he had to say. And Mr. Forkle figured it was safer than letting Fintan anywhere near the cells.
I guess I can see that. But I have a bad feeling about this, Foster.
So do I. Is there anything else you can think of that will tell us what we’re dealing with?
Not much. I heard Alvar and Fintan debating about whether or not someone was going to “deliver.” So that might mean there’s another person who needs to bring them something. Maybe King Dimitar?
Maybe. But he looked pretty furious when Fintan showed up.
Edaline was still rubbing Sophie’s back, and Sophie tried to focus on the feeling—tried to keep her head clear so she could think instead of panicking.
It’s not too late to beat this, Keefe thought, his mind humming with a new sort of momentum. Keep your head down and your eyes open, and don’t go anywhere without Sandor.
Sandor’s not here. Lumenaria has its own security force.
Can you trust them?
I don’t know. My guard seems nice.
Nice isn’t good enough. If there is another person helping Fintan, it would make sense that they’d be part of the security. So don’t hesitate to unleash that Foster rage on anyone who feels like a threat, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.
You will? How?
Still figuring that out. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get inside the castle, but I’m sure there’s somewhere on the island I can hide.
Sophie doubted that, but she had a more pressing question. What about your babysitters?
Already working on it. That’s what I was trying to tell you when you first reached out to me. I decided I’m leaving the Neverseen. Tonight.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE PULLED AWAY from Edaline as the crush of emotions hit her. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or cry or shred a few of her bed’s fancy tasseled pillows.
On the one hand—Keefe was leaving the Neverseen!
On the other: WHY COULDN’T HE HAVE FIGURED IT OUT BEFORE HE FREED ALVAR, AND STOLE THE CACHE, AND THE ALLUVETERRE CRYSTAL, AND WHEN IT WASN’T SUPER DANGEROUS FOR HIM TO ESCAPE, AND ARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Hey, Keefe said, reminding her that their thoughts were still connected. I don’t blame you for the rage-fest, Foster—but I promise I’m going to make it up to you. All of it. Starting tonight.
She sank onto her bed, deciding sitting was a good idea. I know you want to help—but coming to Lumenaria is a bad idea. The island is nothing but a cold, rocky beach, and I’m sure there are goblins patrolling it. And Alvar and the others might expect you to go there. I think you should head to Sandor’s house in Gildingham. That’s where Grady is. They’ll keep you safe.
Uh, I’m pretty sure the most dangerous place I could be right now is alone in a room with your dad and Gigantor.
Flashes of the torturous “boys” conversation raced through Sophie’s mind. Hmm, you might have a point there.
So it’s settled, then, Keefe said. I’ll be outside Lumenaria as soon as I bust out of here. I don’t care if there are patrols, I’ll find a way to evade them. I want to be close—that way if you need me, I can help.
Sophie could think of a thousand reasons why that was a horrible plan. But there were other things to worry about.
How are you going to get away from everyone at the hideout? she asked. You said it was going to be rough.
It probably will be. And I know everything I’ve done lately has been made of epic fail. But this is different. I’m back to playing my own games. And Team Foster-Keefe is going to win!
“YOU BOTH LOOK TIRED,” MR. FORKLE noted as Sophie and Edaline took their seats at the formal summit breakfast.
Tired was an understatement. They’d stayed up late discussing Keefe—and then Sophie’s brain had spent the rest of the night churning out nightmares.
But she could tell King Dimitar was listening to their conversation, so she told Mr. Forkle, “They wouldn’t let me bring Ella. How do people sleep without stuffed animals? I didn’t know where to put my arms.”
Queen Hylda and Empress Pernille laughed at her joke, and Sophie was glad she’d made it. She hadn’t noticed they were also eavesdropping.
Now is not a wise moment for secrets, Mr. Forkle transmitted as Sophie picked halfheartedly at one of the pastries, getting chocolate on her silky gloves.
She told him what Keefe had decided and added, I’ve tried checking on him a few times and he hasn’t responded.
There’s nothing the Neverseen can do to stop you from communicating with him. If he’s ignoring you, it’s only because he needs to concentrate.
Technically, there was one way the Neverseen could silence Keefe forever—but she was not letting her mind go there. Nope. Nope. Nope.
I wish he wasn’t coming here, she told Mr. Forkle. It’s way too risky, and he’s only doing it because he feels like he needs to make everything up to me.
He does need to make it up to you. Haven’t you realized that yet? That’s why you and Mr. Sencen work so well together. You both push each other to believe in yourselves. Don’t go easy on him now because you’re afraid he’s too fragile. The more you let him prove himself, the more he’ll realize he’s still worthy.
Their conversation ended when a fleet of goblins marched into the room and announced that they’d be escorting everyone to a room called The Circle. It was a long trek, and Sophie cursed her stupid heels—and her much-too-poofy silver-blue gown—as they trudged through a dozen different halls and then up an endless winding staircase.
The Council was waiting for them in the highest room in the tower, at a glowing round table that Sophie was sure had been the inspiration for King Arthur’s legend. Twenty-one chairs circled the table at evenly spaced intervals—twelve for the Councillors, three for Sophie and Edaline and Mr. Forkle, one for each of the other intelligent species’ leaders, and one that remained empty—until the entire circular wall had been lined shoulder to shoulder with goblin soldiers. Then four additional guards marched into the room, surrounding a figure who rattled with every step.
“Sorry I’m late,” Fintan said, waving a chained hand as he clanked into his seat. “The security here is murder.”
Oralie’s cheeks turned as green as the simple gown she wore. Sophie wondered it the outfit was a tribute to Kenric. The elves always wore green to plantings—the color of life.
Councillor Em
“And there we have the greatest lie of the elves,” Fintan interrupted, struggling to stand with his clunky chains. “We talk of freedom and equality—but demand authority and superiority. And why shouldn’t we? Simply put: We’re better, on every level. Smarter. More powerful. With talents and skills none of you can even comprehend.”
Angry shouts erupted from the other rulers, and Sophie slouched in her chair.
She’d heard the elves refer to themselves as superior many times—and it had always made her uncomfortable. But to broadcast it so boldly in front of the other species was both uncalled-for and insulting.
“There’s no need to be offended,” Fintan called over them, resting his chained hands on the glowing table. “Being superior isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We’re stuck solving all of your problems, trying to keep millions of people with different wants and needs and challenges satisfied with their lives. Why do you think we’re here?”
“Before you start shouting again,” Councillor Bronte interrupted, “remember that you’re the ones who voted that Fintan be allowed to attend. Perhaps now you see why we’ve been working so hard to silence him.”
“But I won’t be silenced!” Fintan shouted. “Because the old ways are failing—and have been failing for centuries. This world doesn’t need diplomacy. It needs quick, decisive leadership from someone who offers actual solutions. Someone not afraid of making the hard choices. Someone willing to make changes. Let’s be honest—how many of you fully expect to have most of your demands ignored during these negotiations?”