Authors: Sara Walsh
“But what does any of that mean?”
“It means they’re going to be hugely disappointed,” said Sol. Then, to Vermillion, “So Malone’s using the safe house on Maslian’s Square?”
“Yes. I saw three of his men there; I don’t know how many more there are. Tomorrow there will be a parade in honor of the Suzerain’s return. You know the type of men Malone hires. They enjoy a drink or two. There will be parties for the parade all over town. I’m sure they’d happily join the festivities given the right persuasion. That would give you a chance to slip in. Until then, you’d need an army to penetrate their defenses. It’s a window, Solandun. A narrow window, I grant you, and not foolproof. Some of Malone’s men will undoubtedly remain to guard their prize. But for sure, as soon as the Suzerain is settled and granting audiences at the Velanhall, they’ll be up there to make their trade.”
“Then maybe we have a plan,” said Sol. “I’m going to go up there and sniff around.” He turned to me. “Want to come?”
And get him out of Vermillion’s hair? It was an easy decision. “This isn’t another one of your crazy missions, is it?” I asked.
Sol’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “Just a stroll!” he said. “I promise. No trouble.”
I
knew it was Malone’s place as soon as I saw the eye painted above the door. It gave me the same creepy feeling as the tattoo on Malone’s hand. “Do you see it?” I asked.
“I see it,” said Sol. “We need to be careful.”
He lowered his head as we passed the hideout, a wide gray building, one of many that edged Maslian’s Square. There was no sign of activity on our first pass. The ground floor windows were shuttered and the eye was the only sign of life. “Can it see us?” I whispered.
“Best not to find out.”
“Then we can’t go in through the front tomorrow.”
“Probably not a good idea anyway,” said Sol. “It’s busy around here.”
Maslian’s Square was smaller than the concourse inside Orion’s gates, but it was no less populated. Hundreds of windows overlooked the square. No doubt they’d be filled with spectators—witnesses—during the Suzerain’s parade. Preparations were already underway. Sentinels patrolled, pushing back stall holders and erecting barriers along a route, which cut through the square and continued on to the Velanhall. It was heavily guarded chaos in the making.
“Let’s check out back,” said Sol.
The rear was little better. Malone’s hideout backed onto a long, stuffy alley that reeked of garbage. The rear windows were shuttered, too, so there was no peeking inside. There was one door, which Sol discreetly checked to find it locked, but no eye.
“There’s one of those things by the door like at Vermillion’s,” I said, picturing the oval disc Sol had used to enter the safe house.
“It’s a bond key.” He checked the length of the alley. All clear.
“Any chance your key would fit? They look about the same size.”
“It’s not that kind of a key,” he said. “It’s a spell. They were popular before the Purge.”
I took another look at the shallow recess as we again passed the door. “Any chance we could find a key to fit?”
“Not many people can make bond keys these days,” Sol replied as we headed back to the street. “Besides, there’s no way
to replicate the spell in the lock. Bond keys use blood rites.”
“Blood rites?” I blurted. “Like
real
blood?”
It was a relief to be back onto the square where the air was fresh. Shame we had to be talking about blood.
“Blood was often used in spells,” said Sol, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “It was a way to link an object of value to an individual.”
He led us to a bench on the opposite side of the square, safely out of sight of Malone’s eye. Once seated, he took Vermillion’s key from his pocket. “There’s blood encased inside,” he said.
I’d thought about touching it, then I changed my mind. “Your blood?”
“That’s right. The lock at Vermillion’s knows it’s the blood of a friend. If it senses the same blood in the hand that uses the key, the lock will release.”
Whatever Delane had said about Vermillion and Sol not being together, I’d seen how Vermillion had greeted him. And Sol had a bond key. To her house.
“So how come you have one?” I asked.
“You can connect a lock to many keys,” he replied. “As long as it recognizes the blood, it’ll open.”
It wasn’t quite what I’d asked, but Sol could be tricky when he wanted to be.
“It’s still gross,” I said, looking away.
“It’s secure. Some of the strongest spells ever conjured used blood rites. You have to know what you’re doing with them, though; they can get messy.”
I slumped forward. “You’re a fun date, Sol.”
He laughed. “Sorry. I can’t compete with your prom.”
“Instead of fruit punch and chaperones, you have sentinels and visage demons. That’s hard to top.”
“I doubt you’d want either of those at the dance.”
I wouldn’t have minded seeing Sol in a tux, though, but that wasn’t ever going to happen. The only thing we had to look forward to was storming Malone’s hideout and then somehow getting Jay out of the Velanhall. No orchid corsage required for that.
“Just so you know,” I said, after taking another look at the eye. “I don’t have a good feeling about this plan.”
Sol turned toward me, surprising me with a penetrating stare. “And why’s that?”
“There could be dozens of them in there.” I was determined to keep my mind on the business at hand, which was difficult when Sol looked at me that way. “I’m useless in a fight. You can spot Vermillion a mile away. That leaves you and Delane.”
“I hope there won’t be a fight,” said Sol. “Get in, get the Solenetta, get out.”
“Which we can’t do if the place is packed with Runners.”
“I doubt there will be more than a few men in there. It’s not Malone’s style. There’s no safety in numbers in Orion. Here you lie low, keep your head down, otherwise you’re attracting thieves. And this place is full of thieves.”
“Like us?”
“We’re not stealing, Mia. We’re taking back what’s yours.”
“And if we don’t get it?”
He paused. “We’ll get it back.”
But then what? We still had to get Jay. And what about the other boys? We’d have to make it to the Ridge and across to Crownsville without the whole of Bordertown noticing. As soon as the Solenetta disappeared, Malone would know it was us. If the Ridge had been guarded before, it’d be impenetrable by the time we reached Bordertown.
I saw the Solenetta in my hand, picturing myself using it to reopen the Barrier. And then Crownsville. How could I explain where we’d been? What would I do with the Solenetta? Whatever Sol had said to Vermillion, there wasn’t a chance I was keeping that thing. More and more, I thought the safest plan was to use grains to cross the Barrier and leave the Solenetta here where it belonged. Using it on the Ridge was skywriting that it had returned to Crownsville. The Suzerain’s demons would come for it and the race would begin again.
Thinking of the Solenetta, my mind flashed back to something
Vermillion had said. “Sol, what did Vermillion mean about me and Jay being Balian? If my father’s a Freeman, then she must have meant my mom, Jay’s mom too. But why would she say that? Unless she knows something I don’t.”
His gaze roved the square, but he wasn’t patrolling as he’d been before; he was avoiding me. “Vermillion’s rarefied Simbia,” he said.
“I know. Delane told me.”
“Simbians can smell a family from a mile away. They can sense how a person’s roots have evolved from the original five families. She sensed Balian in you.”
“You told me Balia was where the Solenetta was made.”
“It was,” said Sol. “A long time ago.”
“But she said Jay was Balian too.”
He had that look again, as if he was sizing me up. Right away, I guessed that he knew something more.
“Sol, it’s where he went, isn’t it?” I said. “My dad. After he dumped me. He went to Balia.”
Sol slowly shook his head. “Mia—”
“Sol, you can tell me. You won’t hurt my feelings. He dumped me. End of story. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with that fact.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t like that.”
“And I’m sure it was.” I nudged his arm, wanting him to
know that he didn’t have to tiptoe around me. “Look, Sol. As great a guy as you say he is, my dad bailed. You have your father, even if he is in the West.”
Sol leaned forward, his hands covering his mouth as he thought. Though the street bustled around us, the space between us fell silent.
“Mia,” he started.
I smiled, warily. “Bad news always follows whenever you say my name like that.”
“It’s not bad,” he insisted, but he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. All I could see was his strong profile. “It’s something I should have mentioned. I . . .”
He stopped, frowned, and gestured across the square.
The door to Malone’s had opened and a short, stocky man—definitely a Runner, judging by his sweatshirt and jeans—exited the house. Sol sprang to his feet. “Now’s our chance.”
Conversation forgotten, I asked, “We’re gonna follow?”
“If we find out where he’s headed, we might learn something useful,” he replied. A mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. “And besides, I can’t bring you to Orion and not show you a good time.”
* * *
“This
is
a good time,” I announced, as we ducked into yet another doorway. “Is this what you do with all the girls?”
We’d stalked Malone’s guy down Orion’s main street. No one less than a full-blown mind reader could have guessed we were trailing him. The afternoon light had faded and the evening traders had taken over the town. We kept back, using the crowds for cover, all the time inching closer to Malone’s man.
“He’s heading for that side street,” said Sol.
We were jogging by the time we turned off the road, entering into a dim alley of ramshackle stalls and storefronts, bursting with shoppers. Within seconds, I’d lost sight of our quarry.
“Now what?” I kept close to Sol, worried we’d get separated in the throng.
Sol, head and shoulders above most of the crowd, gave the alley a quick scan. “He’s entered that store.”
Tucked behind Sol’s arm, I dodged the elbows of passersby and trusted he could navigate us through. Nearby, a pencil-thin man on a podium danced to the beat of a drum. His limbs rolled like dough as he posed in time to the music, creating a series of contorted shapes, which were perhaps even creepier than the eye above Malone’s door.
“Here,” said Sol, and he forged a path to a store opposite Elastic Man’s stage. He pretended to watch the performance. “Can you see him?”
I peered around and there, at a counter inside the store, I caught sight of Malone’s man. “Yep,” I said.
“Then I need you to do something.” He rifled through his pocket and then dropped a few coins into my hand. “Go inside and browse. Listen in. If we’re lucky, he’ll let something slip.”
I clutched the coins as I took another look inside. I’d said I wanted to help, but . . . “Can’t you do it?”
“I shouldn’t go in there,” he said.
“You mean they know you?”
“Maybe.”
Maybe? What kind of an answer was that?
I shot him a scowl. “All right,” I said, skeptically. “But stay where I can see you. I’ll never find my way back if we get separated.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. He pointed to a stall to the right of the contortionist’s podium. “Good luck.”
I went in before I could chicken out. A bell tinkled above the door, announcing my arrival. So much for stealth. Inside, it was gloomy and cramped and smelled of a stomach-churning mix of dust, wood, and syrup. Ceiling-high shelves with jars and bottles of every color caught the light from the orbs in a rusted chandelier.
Head down, I wandered to a rack close to Malone’s man and feigned interest in a bottle of
Sour Soc
, whatever that was. I listened.
“Two crates,” said Malone’s man. “And you’d better throw in some bottles of Duddon’s poison.”
“You’re expecting Malone?” asked the proprietor, a five-foot, ninety-pound weasel-like man with thin, greasy hair. “Can’t remember the last time I saw Duddon in Orion.”
“He’s on his way,” said the man. “He’ll be here for the parade.”
“Then you’ll need more than two crates. How many is he bringing with him?”
“Just a few. Two crates will be fine.”
I stole a peek in time to catch Malone’s man counting on his fingers. He got to seven before he stopped. “Better make that three crates,” he said. “To be delivered at two.”
“And someone will be there to collect? The parade starts at two and I don’t want my man turning up to an empty house again.”
“There’ll be a couple of us there all day,” retorted Malone’s man. “Don’t be late.”
I kept my head down as he left the store, analyzing the
Sour Soc
like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. Inside, I cheered. We’d discovered that Malone was coming to town.
“Is that all you want?”
Startled, I realized the storekeeper had turned his attention to me.
“Erm.”
I flashed a smile, dumped the coins on the counter and prayed there’d be enough. The storekeeper scowled but, to my
relief, took a couple of the coins before pushing the rest across the glass.
“Thanks,” I said, turning tail as fast as I could.
“Hey!”
I spun back, panicked, certain he somehow saw my guilt.
“You forgot your bottle.”
Silly me. I grabbed the
Sour Soc
from his hand and then barreled through the door onto the alley.
* * *
“You said seven,” said Sol for the fifth time.
“I said he
counted
to seven. And that there would be at least two people in there all day.”
We’d left the alley and were wandering Orion’s streets. Excitement for tomorrow’s parade was palpable, especially among the kids, a group of whom (including one with a green beard) darted past with wooden whistles and streamers, parents nowhere in sight.
“And the delivery’s at two,” said Sol.
“Yeah. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”