Lodestar by Shannon Messenger
“Not if we crush you first!” Sandor shouted, charging into the cape-pocket showdown.
“Are all goblins this competitive?” Sophie asked, deciding to watch from the sidelines as Sandor and Grizel tried to shove their meaty hands into the narrow pockets.
“It’s just her,” Sandor squeak-growled.
“Nothing wrong with a girl who goes after what she wants,” Grizel argued. “And what I want is a whole night of you wearing those silver pants I know you still have and sashaying around the dance floor.”
Sophie giggled. “Can I be there?”
Sandor tore through the capes even faster. “No, because it’s not happening!”
“Oh, sweetie, I hate to break it to you—but BAM!” Grizel pumped one fist while she used the other to wave a sealed envelope under Sandor’s nose. “Would you like do the honors, Sophie—even if you don’t deserve it, after you chose to be Too Cool for the Cape Hunt?”
Sophie caught herself holding her breath as she took the envelope from Grizel, slid her finger under the flap, and removed a folded, crumpled paper.
“Did Keefe draw that?” Fitz asked, peeking over Sophie’s shoulder at the photo-real sketch of Lady Gisela looking elegant and aloof—but with a hint of her son’s smirk.
“I think so,” Sophie said.
She’d seen the same sketch in a memory Keefe had shown her, of his father screaming at him for drawing during his Foxfire sessions. Lord Cassius had torn all the pages out of Keefe’s notebook and stormed off. But after he was gone, Keefe’s mom had retrieved one drawing.
Sure enough, when Sophie turned the portrait of Lady Gisela over, she found a note in loopy writing.
Signed: Love, Mom.
TWELVE
THE ENVELOPE WAS still sealed,” Fitz said, taking the drawing from Sophie to study it closer. “So that means Keefe never saw this.”
“But why would Lady Gisela hide it somewhere Keefe wouldn’t look for it?” Sophie asked.
The note gave them the answer.
Dear Keefe,
You may think you understand what you saw today on the mountain. But there’s so much more that needs to be explained.
I think you’re ready for the truth. But it’s going to be confusing.
I need you to trust me.
I’ve left a way for you to find me. And I know you’re smart enough to figure it out.
This is your legacy. All it takes is a leap of faith.
I’ll see you soon.
Love, Mom.
81 / 34 / 197
“Lady Gisela must’ve written this right after the battle on Mount Everest,” Sophie mumbled, rubbing her knot of tangled emotions. “After she phase-shifted off the cliff, she must’ve come here and left it for him.”
“But Keefe didn’t come home,” Fitz added. “We all went to my house—and then we left to find the Black Swan. So he never found it.”
“I wonder what he would’ve done if he had,” Sophie whispered.
Would it have stopped him from joining the Neverseen?
Or would it have made him run away sooner?
More important: What had Lady Gisela planned to tell him?
“It sounds like there are a bunch of stories you haven’t shared,” Tam said, reading the letter over Fitz’s shoulder. “But I guess that’s how it goes for the new kids in the group.”
“We’ll try to catch you up,” Fitz promised.
Linh pointed to the digits under Lady Gisela’s signature. “Do you guys know what those numbers mean?”
“I’m guessing that’s what she meant about leaving Keefe a way to find her,” Sophie said. “But I have no idea how three numbers would help.”
The only theory she could come up with was latitude and longitude coordinates. But those were always in pairs, and they usually had decimal points.
“What’s the sparkly stuff?” Linh asked, pointing to the glints on the edge of the paper.
Sophie had been wondering the same thing. They were too small to be temporary leaping crystals, and there were more inside the envelope, like Lady Gisela had added in a pinch of microglitter before she sealed the letter.
But why would she bother—especially since it seemed like she’d been in a rush? Her writing looked much sloppier than the other time Sophie had seen it.
“Well,” Grizel said, “while you guys ponder all of that, let’s not forget that girls win!”
“Forget it!” Sandor snapped. “It’s not happening.”
“What isn’t?” Mr. Forkle asked from the top of the stairs. Lord Cassius loomed behind him.
Grizel grinned and shook her hips. “Dancing. Sandor’s going to be doing a lot of it.”
“I . . . think I’ve missed something.” Mr. Forkle’s eyes were on Sophie, and she was pretty sure his piercing stare meant he’d noticed the not-so-subtle way Fitz had flailed to hide the note behind his back.
Lord Cassius must’ve noticed too.
“I’m assuming you found something,” he said.
Before Sophie could figure out a good lie, Tam grabbed the jar of feces from Keefe’s stash and tossed it to him. “We did. Isn’t it awesome?”
Lord Cassius grimaced and stalked over to one of the bathroom sinks to wash his hands, even though he’d only touched the container. “We both know that’s not what I was referring to.”
“We also know that anything Keefe hid in here was because he didn’t want you finding it,” Tam said. “So do you really think we’re going to tell you about it?”
Lord Cassius raised one eyebrow. “I see why your father struggles.”
All the shadows in the room seemed to stretch.
Lord Cassius let out a sigh. “No need for dramatics. Keep your secrets. I’m done trying to control willful teenagers.”
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief, even as Mr. Forkle’s voice filled her head.
As soon as we get back to Havenfield, you’re showing me that letter.
Out loud he said, “Can someone at least explain why Grizel keeps dancing?”
“Because it’s happening,” Grizel told him.
Sophie explained the specifics of their game.
“And let’s not forget that Pretty Boy owes you a favor too,” Grizel reminded her. “And Twinny is at his sister’s mercy.”
“I’m betting this means we’re getting a pet,” Tam mumbled.
Linh nodded. “As soon as we’re able to leave the house more, you’re taking me to Claws, Wings, Horns, and Things.”
Lord Cassius whistled. “Either your control has improved significantly or you enjoy flooding Atlantis.”
Linh didn’t reply, but she formed a small bird out of water, letting it soar around the room before splashing Lord Cassius’s shoes.
“Whoa,” Fitz breathed, blinking several times before turning to Sophie. “What about me? What’s my punishment?”
“I’m . . . still narrowing it down,” she hedged, her mind screaming with too many possibilities.
“That’s fine,” he said. “But I think we need to set a time limit so you can’t hold this over me forever. Let’s say: If you don’t call in the favor within a month, it becomes mine.”
Sophie agreed, not sure why the deal made her nervous. Worst-case scenario, she’d just rattle off whatever lame idea she came up with off the top of her head.
“Anyway,” Mr. Forkle said, “we shouldn’t impose on Lord Cassius’s hospitality any longer.”
“One thing before you go,” Lord Cassius said as Mr. Forkle reached for his pathfinder. “I know you saw my son yesterday,” he told Sophie. “And that he was behind the damage at Foxfire. I wanted to thank you for keeping that information private.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said.
“That doesn’t stop me from appreciating it. I’ve always valued your friendship with my son. If anyone can guide him along this challenging path he’s chosen, it’s you. I also assume he’ll be contacting you again—and if so, I hope you’d be willing to give him a message.??
Sophie steeled herself for some sort of cruel threat. Instead, Lord Cassius told her, “Please let him know that no matter what happens, he will always have a room here at Candleshade. I realize my son and I do not get along. I’ll even own that it’s primarily my fault. But regardless of our differences . . . Keefe and I will always be family. And no matter where he goes or what he does, he can always choose to come back home.”
It definitely wasn’t the kind of speech that left Sophie feeling warm and snuggly. But Lord Cassius was offering his son more than Tam and Linh’s parents had done for their children.
“I’ll let him know,” she promised.
Lord Cassius nodded. And with that, they leaped back to Havenfield.
MR. FORKLE GAVE THEM TEN SECONDS after their group arrived in the creature-filled pastures before he held out his pudgy hand. “Show me the letter.”
Fitz obediently passed it over.
“Well,” Mr. Forkle said when he’d finished reading, flipping the note over to study the drawing. “Mr. Sencen is a remarkable artist.”
“That’s it?” Sophie asked as Tam groaned. “What about the note? And the numbers?”
“And the sparkles,” Linh added.
“Excuse me for wanting to give proper praise to Mr. Sencen’s talent. Look at those details! Do we know how old he was when he drew this?”
“He was a Level Three at Foxfire,” Sophie said. “And now you’re stalling,”
“I am,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “But only because I know you’re all going to start shouting at me in a few seconds—even Sandor and Grizel.”
“Why would we do that?” Fitz asked.
“Because . . . I know what the numbers mean.”
“YOU DO?” six voices shouted in unison.
Mr. Forkle rubbed his temples. “Just as I expected. And now . . .”
He pointed to the path that led to the T. rex pasture, where Grady came sprinting toward them covered in neon green dinosaur feathers.
“Is everything okay?” Grady asked. “I heard shouting while I was bathing Verdi.”
“We’re fine,” Mr. Forkle said. “But by all means, please join this conversation. It’ll save me from having to explain a second time.”
Mr. Forkle handed Grady the note from Keefe’s mother and pointed to the line under the signature. “Eighty-one, thirty-four, one hundred and ninety-seven. I’m surprised none of them could guess after seeing the crystal powder.”
Grady sighed. “Path angles.”
Mr. Forkle nodded. “For those who’ve never made a temporary leaping crystal before, the beam is made by three facets that converge to a single point, and then collapse in on each other once the leap is done. In this case, the crystal that Lady Gisela is instructing her son to carve has an eighty-one-degree angle, a thirty-four-degree angle, and a one-hundred-and ninety-seven-degree angle. She also provided the crystalline powder he’d need in order to form it, so he could take the leap of faith and meet her.”
“So we can do the same thing, right?” Sophie asked, hoping she hadn’t lost any of the powder when she opened the letter.
“I assumed that would be your next question,” Mr. Forkle said. “And I’m sure all of you are now imagining rather dramatic scenarios that involve storming a secret Neverseen hideout and solving everything with an epic showdown.”
“That’d be nice,” Tam said.
“Though I’d be even happier if they surrendered without a fight,” Fitz admitted. He rubbed the spot on his chest where he’d been impaled during their Exile prison break.
“We are the only ones who will be storming anything,” Sandor assured him, pointing to himself and Grizel.
“That won’t be necessary,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “And no, Miss Foster, I’m not saying that because my first instinct is to deny things. I happen to know where this particular crystal will lead, and it’s nowhere we need to be visiting. I used the same angles the day I came to rescue you and Mr. Dizznee from the Neverseen.”
THIRTEEN
THE FLASHBACKS HIT Sophie hard.
No visuals. Only sounds.
Ghostly laughter. Haunting threats. Questions with no answers.
“Are you okay?” Fitz asked as Sophie dug her fist under her ribs, trying to keep the tangled emotions from unraveling.
“I’m fine,” she promised—then cleared her throat and tried again without the definitely not-fine squeak. “I just don’t have good memories of that place.”
“Neither do I,” Mr. Forkle mumbled. “Seeing you blistered and drugged and strapped to a chair . . .”
Everyone shuddered.
Sophie didn’t have the same memories. Her blindfold had prevented her from seeing the hideout. And the cloyingly sweet-scented drugs had dulled the rest.
All she remembered was pain.
And panic.
And scattered random details, like the weight of her bonds, the rush of the elevator they’d used during their escape, and the endless minutes as Mr. Forkle had carried her and Dex through the halls. Then she’d woken up on the streets of Paris with new abilities and three vague clues to help them find their way back to the Lost Cities.
“Just so I’m understanding this right,” Tam said, “you guys actually know where one of the Neverseen’s hideouts is?”
“An abandoned one, yes,” Mr. Forkle said. “They managed to destroy the entrance in the brief time it took me to treat Miss Foster’s and Mr. Dizznee’s wounds—and by the time I found a new way in, they’d removed all trace of themselves. Which is probably why Lady Gisela chose it for her rendezvous point. If the note fell into the wrong hands, all anyone would find are a few empty underground rooms—and even then, only if they knew exactly how to find them.”
“Does that mean the numbers in the note are a dead end?” Fitz asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m sure any lookout Lady Gisela posted there is long gone now that she’s in prison. And we monitor the area. No unusual activity has ever been reported.”
Fitz’s shoulders slumped. “Just when I thought we were getting somewhere.”
“We are getting somewhere,” Mr. Forkle said. “This note is not the only discovery we made today. All we need—”
“I’d like to see it,” Sophie interrupted. “The hideout, I mean.”
“That would be very unwise, Miss Foster. Reliving all the trauma—”
“I can relive the trauma anytime,” Sophie interrupted. “I’m doing it right now.”
Grady pulled her close.
“Really, I’m fine,” she promised, glad her voice matched the words. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s not like I’ll ever forget what happened to me.”
“Maybe not.” Grady kissed her forehead. “But you could trigger additional flashbacks.”
“That could be a good thing,” Sophie argued. “We might learn something important.”
“I can assure you, Miss Foster, that whatever miniscule truths you might glean from those dark flashbacks won’t be worth the additional stress they’ll cause. Your mind and sanity are far too precious to take such a risk.”
“I can handle it,” she insisted.
It’d been months since her kidnapping, and she’d never once considered going back. But to stand in a Neverseen hideout—even just the shell of it . . .
Maybe it would help her get inside their heads.
“We know way more about the Neverseen now than we did when I was taken,” Sophie reminded them. “Back then, we didn’t know the name of their organization, and we hadn’t seen the creepy white eye symbol on their cloaks. We’d also never heard anyone mention the Lodestar Initiative. So it is possible you missed something when you were there. We have to at least check. I promise it won’t be too hard for me, and you already said it won’t be dangerous—”
“Funny, I don’t remember saying that,” Mr. Forkle interrupted.
“You said there’s been no unusual activity,” she reminded him. “Same difference.”
“Just b
“We’re following an important lead,” Sophie argued. “I’m sure the Council realizes that finding the Neverseen is going to require us bending a few rules—and if they don’t, who cares? We’ve never let that stop us before.”
Mr. Forkle sighed so hard it made his pudgy cheeks flap. “Can we at least let this idea sit for a few days?”
“What will that accomplish?” Sophie asked. “Besides wasting time we can’t afford to lose? If we have a shot at learning something, why not learn it now?”
“I’m with Sophie on this one,” Tam jumped in.
“Me too,” Linh said.
“You kids are getting too smart for your own good,” Mr. Forkle muttered. “Fine. Let me reach out to Blur.”
He stepped away to whisper into his Imparter, and Grady shifted so Sophie was facing him. “Are you sure this is a good idea, kiddo?”
“I’m never sure of anything,” Sophie told him. “But I’ve been back to the cave they grabbed me from, and it didn’t cause a breakdown.”
“This will be much harder,” Grady warned. “And you’ve already had a long, tough day. You’ve been up since before dawn.”
“I know.” Sophie yawned just thinking about it. “But we both know I’m never going to sleep until this is done.”
“I doubt you will afterward either,” he said sadly. “Just . . . promise you won’t be afraid to admit if it gets too hard and you need to leave. There’s no shame in saying I can’t.”
Sophie promised as Mr. Forkle returned looking equal parts determined and resigned.
“Blur sent two of our gnomes to inspect the area,” he said. “As long as they give the all clear, I’ll take you for a quick look—but the emphasis must be on ‘quick.’ Understood?”
“And you mean all of us, right?” Fitz jumped in.
“I leave that up to Miss Foster. She may well prefer to keep this a private moment.”
The idea of bringing an audience to her torture chamber felt strange.