Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
“Yet,” Linh added quickly.
“I know the feeling.” Lord Cassius had volunteered to join the Black Swan himself—which made Sophie want to vomit on his jewel-encrusted shoes. She didn’t care that he’d been searching his wife’s possessions for clues to her Neverseen activities. Finding a bunch of maps and a leaping crystal kit would never make up for the way he’d treated his son.
“Oh my,” Lord Cassius said, fanning his face, “I always forget how intense your emotions are, Miss Foster. It’s such a strange sensation to feel them wafting through the air. A bit like static electricity, only pricklier.”
Most Empaths needed physical contact to take a reading, but for some reason Keefe and his father were different—at least when it came to Sophie.
“Well,” she said, hoping he could feel the massive waves of disgust she was sending his way, “some things give me a stronger reaction than others.”
Abuse came in all forms—and while Lord Cassius had never hit his son, his constant belittling criticism had done plenty of damage.
Not surprisingly, he didn’t bother asking for an update on Keefe as he stepped aside to let them in. The sparse foyer felt as cold and welcoming as a morgue—black floor, sleek walls glinting with sparks of blue balefire, and a silver staircase that spiraled all the way up to the two hundredth floor.
“You said you needed my help with something when you hailed,” Lord Cassius prompted.
“Indeed. We’re looking for any information you might be able to provide us about this symbol.” Mr. Forkle removed the memory log from his cape pocket and handed it over.
Lord Cassius’s eyes widened. “Lodestar.”
“So that is what the symbol means?” Sophie asked.
Lord Cassius frowned, turning the memory log to study the symbol from different angles. “It’s strange. The word clicked when I looked at the image, but I have no idea why.”
Memories could do that sometimes—especially memories that had been erased. Some triggers only dragged certain details back. Others unleashed the entire scene in a dizzying rush. Sophie knew the feeling well, thanks to the secrets the Black Swan had planted in her brain. It was also why she wasn’t allowed to ever visit her human family, in case seeing her made them remember.
“I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Lord Cassius said, scratching his head and messing up his immaculate hairstyle.
“The mind is a tricky thing,” Mr. Forkle told him, taking the memory log back. “If you remember anything else, you know how to reach me.”
“Of course. Though I don’t see why you need me. Surely you realize there’s someone who could be infinitely more helpful.”
Sophie was about to ask who when realization dawned, spreading goose bumps across her skin. “You . . . want us to ask your wife about the Lodestar Initiative?”
“Why not?” Lord Cassius asked. “Isn’t this whole thing her mess? Who better to solve the problem than the one who created it in the first place?”
“Uh, maybe someone who’s not locked away in an ogre prison?” Fitz suggested.
For the briefest glimmer of a moment, Lord Cassius’s expression faltered and he looked like a grieving husband and a crushed father, standing all alone in his cold, empty tower.
Then he blinked and it was gone, replaced with his dripping smile. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Not in this instance,” Mr. Forkle told him. “If we express interest in Lady Gisela, we turn her into an ogre bargaining chip—one that would come at far too high a cost.”
“Diplomacy so rarely yields results,” Lord Cassius agreed. “But that’s why I’ve grown so passionate for your order. Rumor has it, the Black Swan staged a rather successful raid on Exile a few months back. Why not pull the same trick again?”
“Because we’ve gained wisdom,” Mr. Forkle told him. “And experience.”
Their adventures in Exile hadn’t exactly gone as planned, between Fitz nearly dying and the Council almost arresting everyone. And yet, Sophie couldn’t help finding Lord Cassius’s suggestion tempting. Not only could Lady Gisela teach them all the things Keefe was so determined to learn from the Neverseen, but Keefe also wouldn’t need Fintan to rescue his mom.
No, Mr. Forkle interrupted. A jailbreak in an uncharted prison run by a particularly violent species will never be a worthwhile risk—especially considering that Lady Gisela may no longer be alive.
Dread hit her stomach with a thud. But Fintan told Keefe—
Yes, I know what he promised. I also know he gave Mr. Sencen that information when he was trying to lure him into joining their order. And even if the report was accurate, it’s been weeks since then—and Lady Gisela was badly wounded at her arrest. Or if she is alive, it’s also incredibly likely that they erased her mind before they sent her away.
You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Sophie noted.
Of course. The Collective and I have discussed it at length. I never mentioned it because I know how you struggle to ignore possibilities.
Or maybe it was because your first instinct is to say no to everything. You realize that ninety percent of the time, you give me a big speech on all the reasons why an idea is too dangerous, and then a few weeks later we end up doing it anyway?
A rueful smile curved his lips. And in each of those instances, it was only because the situation grew especially desperate. Thankfully, we’re not there yet. There are avenues we haven’t yet explored—like showing the symbol to Gethen when we meet with him and seeing if we can trick some answers out of him.
I guess that’s true, Sophie hated to admit.
She’d been expecting him to offer his usual less-than-helpful solutions, like “read a bunch of really long books” or “practice telepathy with Fitz.”
Gethen . . . might actually work.
Good—it’s settled, Mr. Forkle told her as he turned to their group. “Forgive our moment of distraction.”
Lord Cassius nodded. “I’m sure we’re all used to Telepaths. Have you at least come to a decision?”
“Only that we’ll be focusing on alternate plans. But thank you for the suggestion. I wonder if I could trouble you with one further request. I’d love to take a look around before I leave. Perhaps my fresh eyes might turn up a clue your wife left behind.”
“Where would you like to search?” Lord Cassius asked. “There are quite a few places.”
Talk about an understatement.
Sophie doubted an army of gnomes would be able to search the massive estate in less than a week—and gnomes were the most efficient, industrious creatures she’d ever met. Still, Keefe had stayed at Candleshade the night before he ran off with the Neverseen. And while he was there, something must have changed.
When he’d left Sophie’s house he’d seemed upset—but nothing like the mess he’d been the next day.
Something had triggered new memories—memories that made him believe he was part of the Lodestar Initiative.
So maybe if she searched his room, she could find what made him remember.
ELEVEN
HUH,” FITZ SAID. “So this is Keefe’s room.”
Sophie blinked. “That’s right—you’ve never been here.”
“Uh, have you?”
“I’d like to know that answer as well,” Tam said.
She shook her head. “Keefe told me he didn’t like to have friends over to his house. But I’ve seen it in a few of his memories.”
The memories weren’t happy memories, though, so she hadn’t paid much attention to the scenery. The room took up three stories, and was one of the fanciest places Sophie had seen—sparkling crystal walls, swirling chandeliers, and tons of ornate furniture in shades of black, white, and gray.
“This place reminds me of our old room,” Linh mumbled. “We weren’t allowed to decorate it either.”
“You guys shared a room?” Fitz asked.
“It was our punishment for telling people we were twins.” Tam rolled his eyes.
L
inh hooked her arm around him. “Too bad I liked sharing a room better.”
“And yet you ditched me the first second we got to Alluveterre.”
“Hey, what girl is going to pass up her own private tree house?” Linh asked.
“Definitely not me,” Sophie said, trying to figure out where to start their search. Everything seemed so un-Keefe, it was hard to imagine him touching any of it.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Tam asked. “Keefe doesn’t hit me as the Dear Diary type—though if we find one, I call dibs.”
“No you don’t,” Sophie told him. “We’re not here to snoop. I just figured we should look around and make sure there’s nothing important.”
“Well, this place is huge,” Fitz said. “So maybe we should split up—some of us upstairs and some of us downstairs and meet in the middle?”
“New game!” Grizel jumped in. “Girls versus boys. Losers owe the others a favor. GO!”
“Bring it on!” Fitz said, sprinting for the stairs.
Grizel beat him there and bolted downstairs, so Fitz raced up.
“Looks like we have closet and bathroom duty, guys!” he shouted.
“I’m going on record right now and saying I’m not getting within ten feet of Keefe’s underwear!” Tam shouted back.
Sandor heaved a sigh as he turned to follow the boys. “If you care about me at all, Miss Foster, lose this silly game. Do whatever you have to do.”
Sophie and Linh shared a look before they made their way downstairs, where Grizel was already busy flipping though one of the notebooks piled on an enormous gilded desk. “Either of you want to give me a hand with these?”
Linh grabbed one. “Wow. The whole first page is just ‘bored bored bored’ written over and over.”
“He also makes some rather entertaining notes about his Mentors in the margins,” Grizel said. “But none of that is particularly useful, so we’d better get moving. We’re winning this thing! And when we do, Sandor is taking me dancing.”
“Dancing?” Sophie repeated, trying to picture that.
Nope.
Her brain couldn’t compute.
“Does dancing mean something else to goblins?” Linh asked.
“I don’t know—does it mean this?” Grizel hummed a silky beat and shook her hips in a move that reminded Sophie of belly dancing, only with less arm waving and more head bopping.
“You really think Sandor’s going to do that?” Sophie asked.
“He will if you help me force him. Think of the favor you could demand from that pretty boy up there. And I bet our little Linh would love to force her brother to do something especially embarrassing.”
Linh grinned. “How do we win? You never explained the rules.”
“Of course I didn’t. How else can I change them? Now get to work!” Grizel pointed across the room—which seemed to be some sort of study, complete with oversize armchairs and walls of bookshelves. From a distance, anyone would think a model student lived there—or maybe a snooty professor. But as Sophie looked closer, she could spot glimmers of Keefe in the details. Like the subtitles he’d scrawled on the spines of the books:
688 pages that don’t actually tell you anything.
Does anyone honestly care this much about fungus?
I tore a page out of the middle somewhere—good luck trying to find it!
“Think this is significant?” Grizel asked, pulling a silver Imparter from one of the desk drawers.
“I’m betting he left that so no one could track him down,” Sophie said “But you’re welcome to compare it to mine to see if there’s something unique.”
She handed over her Imparter, and Grizel studied them from every angle. “Ugh, I guess you’re right. These look identical—oh, what’s that?”
Linh showed them the notebook she’d been flipping through, where Keefe had drawn a detailed map of Foxfire and marked several places with “Hide gulon here.”
Grizel snorted. “I’ll give the boy this—he’s definitely creative.”
“That’s true,” Sophie realized, trying to see the room through Keefe’s eyes. “We need to search beyond the obvious places. He’d want to be clever—hiding stuff in plain sight where no one would suspect. He’d also enjoy damaging things his father cared about, like the walls or the floor or . . .”
Sophie squatted to find the S section on the bookshelf. Specifically: The Heart of the Matter by Lord Cassius Sencen.
Keefe’s father had published his theory that elves generated emotions in both their minds and their hearts, and believed the heart was where the purer emotions lived. Sophie actually found the idea fascinating—and it synced with certain things she’d experienced during her inflicting training. But Keefe’s subtitle was: I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a Prattles pin.
She flipped back the cover and found that Keefe had glued all the pages together, then cut out their center, creating a hollow space he’d packed with vials of elixirs.
“Victory is ours!” Grizel shouted, handing Sophie back her Imparter.
“It’s not about who finds something first—it’s about who finds the most!” Sandor snapped back. But Sophie could hear him yelling at Fitz and Tam to work faster.
“I’m not sure this stuff is actually important,” Sophie warned, holding up two of the vials—Burp Blaster and Pus Powder. “I think it’s Keefe’s pranking supplies.”
“Maybe some of it,” Grizel said, fishing out a silver forklike gadget from the bottom. “But this is an effluxer—also known as an ogre repeller. One of my favorite inventions you guys make, by the way.”
“Yeah, but Keefe uses those for pranks,” Sophie argued. “One time he tried hiding them in the grounds at Foxfire, so they’d go off right as the principal walked by.”
“No wonder he and my brother don’t get along,” Linh said. “They’re basically the same person.”
Practically on cue, Tam shouted from the bathroom above, “Dude—this guy uses more hair products than I do!”
“Well,” Grizel said, tucking the effluxer next to her sword, “I’m still counting this as a find. The rules never said it had to be related to the Neverseen.”
She winked.
“But we’re not done searching yet,” she added. “I don’t just want to win. I want to crush them like a sanguillisk.”
“Do I want to know what that is?” Sophie asked as she followed Grizel back upstairs.
“Depends on how you feel about bugs,” Linh told her. “Imagine a roach and a mosquito having a ten-pound flying baby.”
“And . . . now I’m never going to sleep again.”
Grizel laughed as she and Linh got busy searching under the bed and between the mattresses.
Sophie studied the space, trying to think like Keefe again. “Where’s Mrs. Stinkbottom?”
“Am I going to regret asking what that is?” Grizel asked.
“She’s a green gulon stuffed animal that Elwin and I gave Keefe to help him sleep. He didn’t have a satchel when he left, so she should be here.”
They checked under the bed again, and under the decorative pillows piled on top, before making their way upstairs.
“This is our territory,” Sandor growled, blocking them from entering the humongous bathroom, complete with mirror-lined walls and a swimming pool–size bathtub.
Grizel stroked his cheek. “Are we making you nervous?”
Sandor flinched out of the way, not saying a word as Sophie and Linh made their way into the closet. They found Fitz and Tam sorting through the racks of clothes—so many clothes. Enough to last Keefe a decade or two.
“Anyone see any stuffed animals?” Sophie asked. “I can’t find Mrs. Stinkbottom.”
Tam snickered.
“Hey, all the cool kids are sleeping with stuffed animals these days,” Fitz informed him.
“I take it that means you have a Mrs. Stinkbottom of your own?” Linh asked.
“I have a Mr. Snuggles.”
“Wow.” Tam said. “
Just . . . wow.”
Grizel clapped her hands. “Enough about stuffed animals. Did you boys find anything?”
Sandor’s smile was undeniably smug when he showed her the two stashes of pranking elixirs they’d found in Keefe’s shoes—plus a rather terrifying container labeled MIXED FECES that had been hidden behind a rack of tunics.
“We also found my favorite bramble jersey,” Fitz added. “I knew he stole it.”
“That doesn’t count,” Grizel told him.
Sandor shrugged. “Either way, we’re still winning. And I already decided on my favor.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go counting on it yet,” Grizel warned. “Girls—help the boys with this closet. I’m sure they’ve missed something.”
Sandor was busy assuring her they hadn’t when Linh noticed the edge of a silver chest in the shadows of the highest shelf.
Sophie floated the trunk down using her telekinesis. “Looks like more pranking supplies—another effluxer, a few empty medicine vials, and a bottle of Drooly Dew.”
The bottle was wrapped in crumpled green paper, and when she spotted an opened card underneath it, Sophie realized she was looking at the gift she’d given Keefe for midterms the year before. He’d teased her mercilessly about the detention dance lesson she’d been forced to share with Valin—nicknamed one of the “drooly boys” by Marella—so she’d decided to get back at him. In the card she’d written, “Now you can be drooly too!”
She couldn’t believe he’d kept it.
“All right, back to searching,” Grizel said. “I’m not settling for a tie. You boys found three stashes, and we found two, and learned that Mrs. Fartbottom is missing.”
“Stinkbottom,” Sophie corrected. “And honestly, I’m starting to think we’re wasting our time. If Keefe left something for us, he probably would’ve asked me if I found it. And if he had something to hide, he probably would’ve taken it with him.”
Grizel shrugged. “Either way, we still need a winner. Did you boys already check all of the cape pockets?”
“Some of them,” Fitz said.
Grizel clicked her tongue and rushed over to a rack of cloaks. “Clearly I need to teach you some dedication. But we’ll do that after I destroy your lazy butts with the find of the night. Come on, Sophie and Linh, let’s crush these boys!”
“I know the feeling.” Lord Cassius had volunteered to join the Black Swan himself—which made Sophie want to vomit on his jewel-encrusted shoes. She didn’t care that he’d been searching his wife’s possessions for clues to her Neverseen activities. Finding a bunch of maps and a leaping crystal kit would never make up for the way he’d treated his son.
“Oh my,” Lord Cassius said, fanning his face, “I always forget how intense your emotions are, Miss Foster. It’s such a strange sensation to feel them wafting through the air. A bit like static electricity, only pricklier.”
Most Empaths needed physical contact to take a reading, but for some reason Keefe and his father were different—at least when it came to Sophie.
“Well,” she said, hoping he could feel the massive waves of disgust she was sending his way, “some things give me a stronger reaction than others.”
Abuse came in all forms—and while Lord Cassius had never hit his son, his constant belittling criticism had done plenty of damage.
Not surprisingly, he didn’t bother asking for an update on Keefe as he stepped aside to let them in. The sparse foyer felt as cold and welcoming as a morgue—black floor, sleek walls glinting with sparks of blue balefire, and a silver staircase that spiraled all the way up to the two hundredth floor.
“You said you needed my help with something when you hailed,” Lord Cassius prompted.
“Indeed. We’re looking for any information you might be able to provide us about this symbol.” Mr. Forkle removed the memory log from his cape pocket and handed it over.
Lord Cassius’s eyes widened. “Lodestar.”
“So that is what the symbol means?” Sophie asked.
Lord Cassius frowned, turning the memory log to study the symbol from different angles. “It’s strange. The word clicked when I looked at the image, but I have no idea why.”
Memories could do that sometimes—especially memories that had been erased. Some triggers only dragged certain details back. Others unleashed the entire scene in a dizzying rush. Sophie knew the feeling well, thanks to the secrets the Black Swan had planted in her brain. It was also why she wasn’t allowed to ever visit her human family, in case seeing her made them remember.
“I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Lord Cassius said, scratching his head and messing up his immaculate hairstyle.
“The mind is a tricky thing,” Mr. Forkle told him, taking the memory log back. “If you remember anything else, you know how to reach me.”
“Of course. Though I don’t see why you need me. Surely you realize there’s someone who could be infinitely more helpful.”
Sophie was about to ask who when realization dawned, spreading goose bumps across her skin. “You . . . want us to ask your wife about the Lodestar Initiative?”
“Why not?” Lord Cassius asked. “Isn’t this whole thing her mess? Who better to solve the problem than the one who created it in the first place?”
“Uh, maybe someone who’s not locked away in an ogre prison?” Fitz suggested.
For the briefest glimmer of a moment, Lord Cassius’s expression faltered and he looked like a grieving husband and a crushed father, standing all alone in his cold, empty tower.
Then he blinked and it was gone, replaced with his dripping smile. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Not in this instance,” Mr. Forkle told him. “If we express interest in Lady Gisela, we turn her into an ogre bargaining chip—one that would come at far too high a cost.”
“Diplomacy so rarely yields results,” Lord Cassius agreed. “But that’s why I’ve grown so passionate for your order. Rumor has it, the Black Swan staged a rather successful raid on Exile a few months back. Why not pull the same trick again?”
“Because we’ve gained wisdom,” Mr. Forkle told him. “And experience.”
Their adventures in Exile hadn’t exactly gone as planned, between Fitz nearly dying and the Council almost arresting everyone. And yet, Sophie couldn’t help finding Lord Cassius’s suggestion tempting. Not only could Lady Gisela teach them all the things Keefe was so determined to learn from the Neverseen, but Keefe also wouldn’t need Fintan to rescue his mom.
No, Mr. Forkle interrupted. A jailbreak in an uncharted prison run by a particularly violent species will never be a worthwhile risk—especially considering that Lady Gisela may no longer be alive.
Dread hit her stomach with a thud. But Fintan told Keefe—
Yes, I know what he promised. I also know he gave Mr. Sencen that information when he was trying to lure him into joining their order. And even if the report was accurate, it’s been weeks since then—and Lady Gisela was badly wounded at her arrest. Or if she is alive, it’s also incredibly likely that they erased her mind before they sent her away.
You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Sophie noted.
Of course. The Collective and I have discussed it at length. I never mentioned it because I know how you struggle to ignore possibilities.
Or maybe it was because your first instinct is to say no to everything. You realize that ninety percent of the time, you give me a big speech on all the reasons why an idea is too dangerous, and then a few weeks later we end up doing it anyway?
A rueful smile curved his lips. And in each of those instances, it was only because the situation grew especially desperate. Thankfully, we’re not there yet. There are avenues we haven’t yet explored—like showing the symbol to Gethen when we meet with him and seeing if we can trick some answers out of him.
I guess that’s true, Sophie hated to admit.
She’d been expecting him to offer his usual less-than-helpful solutions, like “read a bunch of really long books” or “practice telepathy with Fitz.”
Gethen . . . might actually work.
Good—it’s settled, Mr. Forkle told her as he turned to their group. “Forgive our moment of distraction.”
Lord Cassius nodded. “I’m sure we’re all used to Telepaths. Have you at least come to a decision?”
“Only that we’ll be focusing on alternate plans. But thank you for the suggestion. I wonder if I could trouble you with one further request. I’d love to take a look around before I leave. Perhaps my fresh eyes might turn up a clue your wife left behind.”
“Where would you like to search?” Lord Cassius asked. “There are quite a few places.”
Talk about an understatement.
Sophie doubted an army of gnomes would be able to search the massive estate in less than a week—and gnomes were the most efficient, industrious creatures she’d ever met. Still, Keefe had stayed at Candleshade the night before he ran off with the Neverseen. And while he was there, something must have changed.
When he’d left Sophie’s house he’d seemed upset—but nothing like the mess he’d been the next day.
Something had triggered new memories—memories that made him believe he was part of the Lodestar Initiative.
So maybe if she searched his room, she could find what made him remember.
ELEVEN
HUH,” FITZ SAID. “So this is Keefe’s room.”
Sophie blinked. “That’s right—you’ve never been here.”
“Uh, have you?”
“I’d like to know that answer as well,” Tam said.
She shook her head. “Keefe told me he didn’t like to have friends over to his house. But I’ve seen it in a few of his memories.”
The memories weren’t happy memories, though, so she hadn’t paid much attention to the scenery. The room took up three stories, and was one of the fanciest places Sophie had seen—sparkling crystal walls, swirling chandeliers, and tons of ornate furniture in shades of black, white, and gray.
“This place reminds me of our old room,” Linh mumbled. “We weren’t allowed to decorate it either.”
“You guys shared a room?” Fitz asked.
“It was our punishment for telling people we were twins.” Tam rolled his eyes.
L
“And yet you ditched me the first second we got to Alluveterre.”
“Hey, what girl is going to pass up her own private tree house?” Linh asked.
“Definitely not me,” Sophie said, trying to figure out where to start their search. Everything seemed so un-Keefe, it was hard to imagine him touching any of it.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Tam asked. “Keefe doesn’t hit me as the Dear Diary type—though if we find one, I call dibs.”
“No you don’t,” Sophie told him. “We’re not here to snoop. I just figured we should look around and make sure there’s nothing important.”
“Well, this place is huge,” Fitz said. “So maybe we should split up—some of us upstairs and some of us downstairs and meet in the middle?”
“New game!” Grizel jumped in. “Girls versus boys. Losers owe the others a favor. GO!”
“Bring it on!” Fitz said, sprinting for the stairs.
Grizel beat him there and bolted downstairs, so Fitz raced up.
“Looks like we have closet and bathroom duty, guys!” he shouted.
“I’m going on record right now and saying I’m not getting within ten feet of Keefe’s underwear!” Tam shouted back.
Sandor heaved a sigh as he turned to follow the boys. “If you care about me at all, Miss Foster, lose this silly game. Do whatever you have to do.”
Sophie and Linh shared a look before they made their way downstairs, where Grizel was already busy flipping though one of the notebooks piled on an enormous gilded desk. “Either of you want to give me a hand with these?”
Linh grabbed one. “Wow. The whole first page is just ‘bored bored bored’ written over and over.”
“He also makes some rather entertaining notes about his Mentors in the margins,” Grizel said. “But none of that is particularly useful, so we’d better get moving. We’re winning this thing! And when we do, Sandor is taking me dancing.”
“Dancing?” Sophie repeated, trying to picture that.
Nope.
Her brain couldn’t compute.
“Does dancing mean something else to goblins?” Linh asked.
“I don’t know—does it mean this?” Grizel hummed a silky beat and shook her hips in a move that reminded Sophie of belly dancing, only with less arm waving and more head bopping.
“You really think Sandor’s going to do that?” Sophie asked.
“He will if you help me force him. Think of the favor you could demand from that pretty boy up there. And I bet our little Linh would love to force her brother to do something especially embarrassing.”
Linh grinned. “How do we win? You never explained the rules.”
“Of course I didn’t. How else can I change them? Now get to work!” Grizel pointed across the room—which seemed to be some sort of study, complete with oversize armchairs and walls of bookshelves. From a distance, anyone would think a model student lived there—or maybe a snooty professor. But as Sophie looked closer, she could spot glimmers of Keefe in the details. Like the subtitles he’d scrawled on the spines of the books:
688 pages that don’t actually tell you anything.
Does anyone honestly care this much about fungus?
I tore a page out of the middle somewhere—good luck trying to find it!
“Think this is significant?” Grizel asked, pulling a silver Imparter from one of the desk drawers.
“I’m betting he left that so no one could track him down,” Sophie said “But you’re welcome to compare it to mine to see if there’s something unique.”
She handed over her Imparter, and Grizel studied them from every angle. “Ugh, I guess you’re right. These look identical—oh, what’s that?”
Linh showed them the notebook she’d been flipping through, where Keefe had drawn a detailed map of Foxfire and marked several places with “Hide gulon here.”
Grizel snorted. “I’ll give the boy this—he’s definitely creative.”
“That’s true,” Sophie realized, trying to see the room through Keefe’s eyes. “We need to search beyond the obvious places. He’d want to be clever—hiding stuff in plain sight where no one would suspect. He’d also enjoy damaging things his father cared about, like the walls or the floor or . . .”
Sophie squatted to find the S section on the bookshelf. Specifically: The Heart of the Matter by Lord Cassius Sencen.
Keefe’s father had published his theory that elves generated emotions in both their minds and their hearts, and believed the heart was where the purer emotions lived. Sophie actually found the idea fascinating—and it synced with certain things she’d experienced during her inflicting training. But Keefe’s subtitle was: I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a Prattles pin.
She flipped back the cover and found that Keefe had glued all the pages together, then cut out their center, creating a hollow space he’d packed with vials of elixirs.
“Victory is ours!” Grizel shouted, handing Sophie back her Imparter.
“It’s not about who finds something first—it’s about who finds the most!” Sandor snapped back. But Sophie could hear him yelling at Fitz and Tam to work faster.
“I’m not sure this stuff is actually important,” Sophie warned, holding up two of the vials—Burp Blaster and Pus Powder. “I think it’s Keefe’s pranking supplies.”
“Maybe some of it,” Grizel said, fishing out a silver forklike gadget from the bottom. “But this is an effluxer—also known as an ogre repeller. One of my favorite inventions you guys make, by the way.”
“Yeah, but Keefe uses those for pranks,” Sophie argued. “One time he tried hiding them in the grounds at Foxfire, so they’d go off right as the principal walked by.”
“No wonder he and my brother don’t get along,” Linh said. “They’re basically the same person.”
Practically on cue, Tam shouted from the bathroom above, “Dude—this guy uses more hair products than I do!”
“Well,” Grizel said, tucking the effluxer next to her sword, “I’m still counting this as a find. The rules never said it had to be related to the Neverseen.”
She winked.
“But we’re not done searching yet,” she added. “I don’t just want to win. I want to crush them like a sanguillisk.”
“Do I want to know what that is?” Sophie asked as she followed Grizel back upstairs.
“Depends on how you feel about bugs,” Linh told her. “Imagine a roach and a mosquito having a ten-pound flying baby.”
“And . . . now I’m never going to sleep again.”
Grizel laughed as she and Linh got busy searching under the bed and between the mattresses.
Sophie studied the space, trying to think like Keefe again. “Where’s Mrs. Stinkbottom?”
“Am I going to regret asking what that is?” Grizel asked.
“She’s a green gulon stuffed animal that Elwin and I gave Keefe to help him sleep. He didn’t have a satchel when he left, so she should be here.”
They checked under the bed again, and under the decorative pillows piled on top, before making their way upstairs.
“This is our territory,” Sandor growled, blocking them from entering the humongous bathroom, complete with mirror-lined walls and a swimming pool–size bathtub.
Grizel stroked his cheek. “Are we making you nervous?”
Sandor flinched out of the way, not saying a word as Sophie and Linh made their way into the closet. They found Fitz and Tam sorting through the racks of clothes—so many clothes. Enough to last Keefe a decade or two.
“Anyone see any stuffed animals?” Sophie asked. “I can’t find Mrs. Stinkbottom.”
Tam snickered.
“Hey, all the cool kids are sleeping with stuffed animals these days,” Fitz informed him.
“I take it that means you have a Mrs. Stinkbottom of your own?” Linh asked.
“I have a Mr. Snuggles.”
“Wow.” Tam said. “
Grizel clapped her hands. “Enough about stuffed animals. Did you boys find anything?”
Sandor’s smile was undeniably smug when he showed her the two stashes of pranking elixirs they’d found in Keefe’s shoes—plus a rather terrifying container labeled MIXED FECES that had been hidden behind a rack of tunics.
“We also found my favorite bramble jersey,” Fitz added. “I knew he stole it.”
“That doesn’t count,” Grizel told him.
Sandor shrugged. “Either way, we’re still winning. And I already decided on my favor.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go counting on it yet,” Grizel warned. “Girls—help the boys with this closet. I’m sure they’ve missed something.”
Sandor was busy assuring her they hadn’t when Linh noticed the edge of a silver chest in the shadows of the highest shelf.
Sophie floated the trunk down using her telekinesis. “Looks like more pranking supplies—another effluxer, a few empty medicine vials, and a bottle of Drooly Dew.”
The bottle was wrapped in crumpled green paper, and when she spotted an opened card underneath it, Sophie realized she was looking at the gift she’d given Keefe for midterms the year before. He’d teased her mercilessly about the detention dance lesson she’d been forced to share with Valin—nicknamed one of the “drooly boys” by Marella—so she’d decided to get back at him. In the card she’d written, “Now you can be drooly too!”
She couldn’t believe he’d kept it.
“All right, back to searching,” Grizel said. “I’m not settling for a tie. You boys found three stashes, and we found two, and learned that Mrs. Fartbottom is missing.”
“Stinkbottom,” Sophie corrected. “And honestly, I’m starting to think we’re wasting our time. If Keefe left something for us, he probably would’ve asked me if I found it. And if he had something to hide, he probably would’ve taken it with him.”
Grizel shrugged. “Either way, we still need a winner. Did you boys already check all of the cape pockets?”
“Some of them,” Fitz said.
Grizel clicked her tongue and rushed over to a rack of cloaks. “Clearly I need to teach you some dedication. But we’ll do that after I destroy your lazy butts with the find of the night. Come on, Sophie and Linh, let’s crush these boys!”